


Adil's Charismatic Carnivore

by Cat_Face



Category: Original Work
Genre: "Infidelity", Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Disembowelment, Genital Mutilation, Gore, M/M, Minor Character Death, Necrophilia, Other, Pedophilia, Post-Orgasm Torture, Rape, Scat, Unreliable Narrator, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Face/pseuds/Cat_Face
Summary: Pretty little things spreading themselves open on all fours, begging for their lives, just to get their heads smashed in or their stomachs cut open and their corpses fucked—exquisite!





	1. dolly doll doll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the grotesque romance of two people](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304406) by [Emeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka). 



> heed the tags. title might change because i struggled to find a suitable one.

Kitter sighed as he sunk his member into the twitching body beneath him. The erratic contractions around his pulsating cock were deliciously pleasing, even after weeks of experiencing the same thing over and over. It was something he’d never tire of. Pretty little things spreading themselves open on all fours, begging for their lives, just to get their heads smashed in or their stomachs cut open and their corpses fucked—exquisite!

He gave the still-warm body a couple of experimental thrusts, hissing in pleasure as he was unable to keep from grinding his pelvis into the squishy mess of intestines. It stained his skin with blotches of dark red. Dehydrated, this one was! No other reason for the mahogany blood. He should’ve let the poor thing drink some fresh water while he kept it in his hiding place.

“Ah, no matter,” he murmured to himself. The others would’ve gotten suspicious if he kept bringing his drinks to a secluded place anyway. He pulled himself from the winding sausage entrails spilling out of the little doll’s stomach cavity, taking a moment to admire the droplets of red dripping down his cock. Then he focused his eyesight on the packed and nearly bursting intestines a mere two inches below his glans. He couldn’t resist the urge to slap the meat with his dick, a muted _thwap thwap_ resonating into the air. It was reminiscent of appraising a watermelon with a nice, resounding flick. Thick and healthy, this one was. Always fun! Packed with feces for sure—he hadn’t fed the little doll enough fruit to let any stools pass. After all, he couldn’t be bothered to clean its messes while he was off having fun elsewhere.

Kitter backed away on his knees, surveying the barely moving body. Pretty little thing won’t have much longer to live. Well, not like it can do much in its current condition anyway. Maybe cutting its life would be mercy. He hadn’t expected it to live after he smashed its head into his favorite rock, painted with the blood of sixteen other precious dolls. Nor was he expecting it to still be alive after he disemboweled it. He was sure he squashed its brain and fractured its skull—going by the blood that had leaked out of its ears and its deformed facial structure—but its fingers were still twitching. Its body was still warm. It still responded to his touches, though he doubted the responses were of any conscious thought.

He hummed in contemplation. Then he decisively grasped the thin, emaciated ankles and dragged the body towards him, lifting its bony legs over his shoulders. The mess of its head left a bloody trail on the stony ground it was dragged on. He grinned as the trail sparked an enjoyable memory of his. Been quite a while since he’d seen his lovely little Adil! Perhaps it was nearing the time to return to his sweetheart. But first, he must enjoy the last of his well-earned vacation.

He balanced the doll’s right leg over his left shoulder. He used his left hand to position his cock against its small anus.

“Ready, baby?” Kitter purred, and the doll gave a miniscule twitch of its fingers in answer. So responsive! How darling. Maybe he should start keeping his prey barely alive and twitching if they were going to be this fun. He promptly forced the tip of his cock into the tight opening, relishing its near painful spasming contractions.

He sighed and closed his eyes, savoring the sensations and the smell and the heat. Yes, he was definitely never going to tire of this. He continued to ease in gently, slowly. It was difficult when the doll kept clenching its sphincter around his cock in a vice grip. He could barely get it past an inch after his tip went in! And though it felt good, it was quite unsatisfying. Especially since the dead ones were so easy to fuck.

Kitter looked down between the doll’s legs to see a delicious array of nooks and crannies. Its stomach cavity was full of openings he could enter. But no, it was his own moral tradition to first take its virginity before desecrating its corpse with cum. That was just the way it was done! His earlier slip-in was just a self-indulgence after waiting for so long. He wrenched his eyes away from the pretty sight of glistening red bulging from their skin, looking to other points of interest. Eventually his eyes were drawn to the flaccid little cock between the doll’s creamy, blood-stained thighs. His eyebrows raised.

“Oh, aren’t you just precious?” He crooned. He hadn’t even noticed the external organ until now! Glinting metal pouted at him from the head of its penis. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice earlier, baby. Your insides were too captivating!”

Kitter decided that he wanted to see its cock piercings a tad clearer, so he slid his hands to the doll’s shins. One hand for each leg. His fingers easily wrapped around the entirety of its thin limbs, and its bones were so brittle that he felt they were going to crumble to dust should he decide to clench his fists. In its legs he could feel its blood pumping through its veins and arteries, coursing through its body only to leak out of its ears and stomach cavity. The thought sent a rush of exhilaration through him, and he was unable to hold himself back from forcing the doll’s knees violently forward, hitting the ground with a smack.

**_SNAP_ **

The doll seemed to jolt alive, every muscle of its body contracting simultaneously and bringing it two inches off the ground as if levitating. But then just as quickly as it’d resurrected, it fell limp. He watched the light in its bloodshot eyes flicker and fade. Its imperceptible twitching was still minutely detectable even in the throes of death. Kitter swallowed at the sudden feeling of tightness around his pulsating cock and the subsequent release of pressure, unable to keep from grounding his pelvis to the doll’s once its muscles slackened enough for him to do so.

He’d gotten too excited and forced its legs down too quickly. He wasn’t sure what bones he’d broken, but it definitely did the trick. He _did_ end up killing it, though. He’d have to thoroughly examine its corpse after he was done with it to make future reference—this displaying position was quite riveting, after all! The doll’s legs were bent completely backwards, as if disconnected from its pelvis. Its knees were even touching its deformed little face, right by its ears! Symmetrical and pretty, just like he preferred them.

“My, aren’t you just a dolly doll doll,” he found himself murmuring in awe. Kitter let himself study the view before him before he ravished it. The doll’s stunning brown and white dotted hair—which was what had first caught his attention two weeks ago—was now matted with sticky blood and dirt, tangled up in a mess of skin and bone. Its nose was broken and snapped wildly to the side. Kitter was sure its jaw was unhinged, but its face was so bloody that he couldn’t quite be sure anymore. No matter, that just makes it easier to fuck its mouth. Its dulled yet charming green eyes would be a wonderful thing to look down at while he forced his dick down its throat.

Its nipples seemed the only thing clean. Kitter dug his hand between the doll’s bulking intestines to coat his fingers with blood, then slathered the fluid all over the doll’s chest. There we go, all nice and covered, he thought to himself. He tweaked its small, perky nipples as a reward for being so pretty. Then, he trailed his hand down and grasped its flaccid, circumsized penis. So small! No more than three inches, perhaps. Little thing was so young, but its mother pierced it already?

Ah, but he’d seen that often these days, hadn’t he? The modification was supposed to deter any males seeking practice. The piercing implied that the modified had already been tarnished; already raped by the person who’d pierced them. Males did not desire a mate—even a practice mate—that had been touched by someone other than them, so mostly the deterrent was efficient.

Not against Kitter, though. He wasn’t looking for a mate. He already had Adil.

He played with the glinting metal ring pierced through its glans, sticking his pinky through the hole. Struck with a sudden urge, he yanked on the ring with the intention to pull it off. It didn’t work, so he repeated the motion vigorously. Eventually he got impatient and ended up gripping the ring between his index and thumb, ripping it off with such force that it tore the precious doll’s glans apart.

Kitter stared, mesmerized, as it took several seconds before blood finally oozed from the new wound. He put the ring—still attached to some pieces of meat—in his mouth, chewing off the flesh. A bit tough and hard to bite through, he appraised. Tasted delicious nonetheless. He flavored the piercing until the taste of metal, distinct from the taste of blood, flooded his mouth. At that point he spat the piercing out like one would spit out a cherry seed.

A rank smell wafted to his nose. Urine, he recognized. He looked around the body to see a small puddle formed beneath it, dark yellow and almost brown in nature. Poor thing must’ve pissed itself when it died, even though it was severely dehydrated. Not wanting to leave the little doll sad that he neglected its gift to him, he took his two fingers—index and middle—and swiped it in the puddle. He brought them to his tongue and tasted the foul liquid, chasing the taste of copper and iron from his mouth. It was an acquired taste, but it was one he did not regret. He licked his finger clean.

It was then that he noticed the body was cooling exceptionally fast. That meant he only had four hours or so until he was found. Wippy and the others had too keen a sense of smell for him to hide his treasure any longer. And what a shame, four hours! How little time that was compared to how long he’d been taking care of this precious doll.

Ah, no time to waste!

Kitter put his hands on the doll’s waist, digging his thumbs into its squishy, cut-open bowels. They proved to be quite effective love handles—as they always did when he fucked his prey. He pulled his hips back slowly, watching raptly as the corpse’s intestines warped and sagged. Then he dove his hips back again, growling at the feeling of lax, cold flesh. He scooted forward, scraping his knees on the stone ground and touching the puddle of urine. The new position allowed him to drill downwards into the doll’s conveniently spread legs. A steady _thwap thwap thwap thwap_ of skin on skin filled the live and open air of the cave. His punctuated breaths were no more than a wisp of sound beneath the crashing waves.

It thrilled him, this kind of thing. Fucking a corpse in his supposed-to-be-homeland, surrounded by life, in a place supposedly dedicated to the relaxation of tourists. Kitter shut his eyes and listened to the squashing sounds of his cock pummeling the now completely cold channel. _Thwapthwapthwapthwap._ Indeed, it _was_ relaxing.

He opened his eyes to see the messed up face of the sweet little boy he’d met while talking to Wippy about Adil. Eyes rolled back, mouth open in a plea, riddled with blood and gore. His evenly paced thrusts faltered as a guttural noise made it past his chest.

 _I have someone I wanna get back to too!_ The boy had said to him, with wide green eyes and windblown hair. Both he and Wippy’s eyes had glinted with malicious interest, much to the woes of the oblivious child. _Mama’s waiting on me to go home today!_

Kitter chuckled darkly at the memory.

“Wonder if she’s still waiting even now, baby doll,” he crooned. He licked his teeth as he took to grinding his pelvis in a mini circle, relishing the moist squishing noises of the doll’s insides. He released its waist to hold himself up by his hands, placing his palms on the back of the doll’s knees. He leaned his entire weight onto its legs, crushing them, savoring the crackling crunch of bone. “She might find you, she might not. Mothers these days don’t look for their children when they’re gone, you see. Because they know they won’t like what they find.”

Kitter fucked his hips forward with enough force to jostle the corpse’s head, rolling it to the side. Its tongue hung loosely from its parted mouth, and he made a future note to pull it out and eat it. He continued to fuck its corpse with painful, accented thrusts, the slick of his pre-cum and the doll’s blood a wonderful concoction of lube that was neither too slippery nor dry. He watched with rapt attention as its corpse and intestines squirmed, pulsated—almost alive—with every movement. Over time his thrusts got more and more aggressive, and his drive forward was accompanied by his gripping of the doll’s legs. He gripped its limbs so fiercely that his handprints were stark against its pale skin. Even dead, the darling little thing was so responsive! Granted, he was sure his hands were just rupturing vessels beneath the skin. But it was nice to fantasize anyway. He had not long before its blood pooled to its back, and that was one of his least favorite parts of killing his prey.

Kitter scooted his legs forward until its thighs were touching his. He lowered his torso down until his chin was above its ragged mop of hair. So, so tiny, this one was! Perhaps no older than Adil’s youngest prostitute-in-training. Kitter himself had quite a small stature, yet his body completely covered the doll’s! The realization gave him a rush of euphoria. He translated the feeling into vicious pounding, battering its buttocks with brutal force.

With a blind right hand he reached down and sunk his fingers into the crevices of its stomach cavity, leaning part of his weight on his left hand so as to not collapse. He sighed a shuddering breath at the writhing slither of organs massaging his hand, each thrust forward aiding in the corpse’s endeavor to please him. He should invest in a cadaver massager, perhaps invent it. Wippy and the others would buy it for sure, but Adil might not be too happy with him. Ah, lovely darling Adil. Kitter gave the corpse a devastating slam at the thought of his love waiting for him at home.

He was nearing his climax. His thrusts took on a rather erratic manner, and his perfect rhythm was replaced by a self-indulgent need to ravage the body beneath him. He dug his hand deeper into its abdomen, searching for its kidneys. Its organs were smooth and round—healthy, loved by its mother, perhaps her only surviving child. Perhaps she had pierced it so early in life because she knew such a pretty little thing would be the prime target for a practice mate. The knowledge that he took away something so precious and rare urged on a primal desire to rip its body apart. It sent white-hot licks of pleasure through his cock, radiating to his spine and out his fingertips, where he twisted and pulled at the doll’s cooled organs.

His cockhead was hitting something hard and deep in its body. Fecal matter, perhaps. Impacted fecal matter. Ah, so fun, so fun! He battered his cockhead at the hardened stool inside the doll’s belly, feeling the mass shift impossibly further upwards into its intestines. Maybe if he fucked it hard enough, he could force the feces out the doll’s esophagus. And if it was still alive, perhaps he could have forced it to vomit its own excrement. Ah, a shame it was already dead. What a fun game that would be!

Kitter’s excitement led him to squeeze the nearest intestine segment. The intestine itself was soft and squishy—cold—but its inside was compact with matter. He scratched it with its thumb, digging in until he could feel the hardened ridges of its feces. He hummed at the leakage of blood that made his fingers slip and slide. Poor little thing must’ve been so constipated! Must’ve felt like its organs were cramping around a rock; like if it tried to squeeze out the intestinal blockage, its darling little sphincter would be rendered into a bloody mess of ruptured membranes. It must’ve cried for its mother to save it over and over, bursting with naïve hope every time it heard the unnatural swish of water as someone stepped to the cave, only to fall silent in terror as Kitter rounded the corner with a smile.

That had been the favorite part of Kitter’s vacation—watching his preys’ faces morph into horror as they realized what was in store for them; as they looked around his abode to realize it _wasn’t_ his abode, not when there were skeletal remains of fellow children and four-day-old blood stains on various sections of the cave; as they became helplessly trapped, knowing that their mothers wouldn’t come for them. None of the mothers ever came for them, not unless they had a death wish. Not unless they wanted to see what it was _really_ like to be forced into submission—into copulation.

Ah, he’d never tire of this!

“Precious baby doll,” Kitter gritted out, surging back into the body with both his hand and dick. His fingers closed around a small, curved, and rounded organ. Found it, he thought. With elation he yanked the organ out. He felt something stretchy snap as he pulled it too taut. Its ureter, most likely. He brought the kidney to his face and unceremoniously popped it into his mouth. The end section of its ureter hung from his lips like a noodle, and he quickly slurped it up. Like a berry, this one’s kidney was! The best part of a child so young. Older and developed kidneys were more like deformed tomatoes.

Kitter saved biting into the kidney for later, instead swishing it in his mouth and playing with it using his tongue. He sucked it clean of any residual blood coating its exterior. It flooded his mouth with coppery iron, spurring him on like gasoline. He resumed his powerful thrusts into the corpse, murmuring meaningless praises at the licks of pleasure coiling his gut as he ruined its organs. He sat back on his heels and dug his thumbs back into its abdomen as he held it by the waist. Eventually he opened his unintentionally closed eyes;

Then let out a harsh breath at the sight beneath him.

 _“Oh,_ so pretty, aren’tcha?” His kidney-searching had created a gaping, swirling hole in the doll’s mess of intestines. Now his thrusts forward were clearly visible by the bulging of its stiff intestines, peeking out from the surprisingly circular hole he’d made. His thrusts became quick and unprecedented, so utterly focused on just seeing the smooth muscle distend that he forgot his impending climax altogether. All he could think about was thrusting forwards, powering his movement in, forcing his cockhead to burst through the compacted fecal matter and out into the open. Ah, later, later, he will do that later!

_THWAP THWAPTHWAP THWAPTHWAP_

His orgasm took him partly by surprise, and he shuddered out a growl as he bit down into the kidney. It exploded in his mouth in a manner much the same as his semen inflated the doll’s tiny intestines. Overwhelming, so much so that he felt blood leak from his mouth and copious fluid leak from its anus, even as it was plugged up by his member. It’d been a long time since his orgasm had hit him with such force! He couldn’t wait to tell Adil of this, but then again that lovely little thing might get jealous. So cute, his lover was. Kitter shuddered at the spike of pleasure that came with the thought of his love.

“There we go, baby,” Kitter murmured absentmindedly with his mouth full, not wanting to swallow the kidney down just yet. He ground the tip of his cock into the doll’s stretchy, cold walls one last time before slowly pulling out. Its raw sphincter barely clenched on his member as he pulled out, but its injured pink flesh stuck to him like strong adhesive. He savored the sensation of puckering suction on his member for over half a minute. Like a tentacle, this one was. So, so good. It sent fluttering waves of pleasure through his gut, and it soothed the primal instinct inside him.

Finally, after careful and measured intervals, his dick popped free of the corpse’s greedy, torn-up orifice. Pink, viscous fluid tinged with dots of black—semen and blood mixed with fecal matter, no doubt—oozed out of its gaping anus. The concoction leaked out to lay on top of the the dark urine rather than mixing with it. Immiscible, it seemed.

He was sure it tasted delicious. In a similar manner as before, Kitter took his index and middle finger and surveyed them. Prim and proper, coated with semi-dried blood. No matter. He’ll lick them clean anyway. He swiped both the urine and slime onto his fingers as a makeshift spoon. Then, he licked them clean before the fluids dripped quickly down his wrists. He hummed in pleasure. Bitter and strong! Like fine wine, or the oldest of cheeses. He closed his eyes and savored the strong tones of blood, feces, and urine, seasoned with salty gravel found on the stone floor. Such a delicacy, especially when paired with the kidney in his mouth! He swallowed the chewed up organ with utmost satisfaction.

Kitter sat back completely. He admired the babe’s darling little pose. Its legs were bent rather weirdly now, but it was very cute. His eagerness must have snapped its tibia and fibula. Its femur still seemed intact, which was good. He’ll use that in a soup later, perhaps spoon-feed it to his lovely Adil as a reward for waiting on him for so long.

There was a stiffness to the corpse that told him an estimate of how much time had passed. Nearing an hour, it seemed. Signs of discoloring paled the bent legs a sickly green hue. The doll’s buttocks, though, were a bright, creamy white—an indication of how excited he’d been while fucking its hole.

Its intestines were now a strangled, purplish color. Wippy would sure love to have a piece of that, he thought to himself. Kitter decided that he’d be generous. He’ll treat Wippy, who was the reason he’d gotten invited out on vacation in the first place, to a couple of segments of intestine. Not a lot, of course, and most certainly not all. Kitter himself quite enjoyed the feeling of biting into sausagey entrails packed with excrement. A bit like a reverse eclair when it was packed with hard stools, but deliciously bitter nonetheless. Dolls like this would sell for luxurious amounts of money.

Shame he was more of the personal-use type of guy, otherwise he would’ve joined his love Adil in co-owning a business. Well, no matter. Lovely Adil’s business was faring well even without his aid. So precious, that little thing. He was lucky to snatch darling Adil before another male did.

Kitter dipped three fingers into the corpse’s anus, swirling around its cold and stiffened channel. He collected a considerable amount of fluid and gore on his fingers before bringing his hand to his smiling lips. Ah, and now he missed his sweet love. It’d truly been too long since the last time they met. This doll, for sure, would be the last of his frenzy. With liberty and enlightenment, he licked his fingers clean, suckling out the bits of flesh caught under his nails.

It was then that Kitter noticed the corpse’s penis stiffened and oozing with blood. Priapism! How absolutely marvelous—he was most definitely going to tell Adil of this encounter now! Surely that sensitive, lovely doll would gasp in awe at his story.

Kitter, enraptured, reached towards the corpse’s erection. Metal glinted at him from the corner of his eyes, and he was reminded of the piercing. What a shame, he thought. How breathtaking it would have been for the doll to have an erection postmortem with its glans pierced by bulbous metal. An erection after death was nothing new to him, but a _pierced_ erection, oh that was riveting! Something new completely!

“Ahh,” he sighed, unable to keep his regret contained. Such a shame, such a shame. If he had known, he would’ve strengthened his impulse control and neglected to pull out the piercing.

“My apologies, baby doll. You’re still gorgeous without it. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” To emphasize his point he reached up and sunk his fingers into one of the doll’s eyes using his nails. The muscles were soft and squishy, but he had to push through springy resistance. Essentially he forced its eyeball deep into its socket, compressing the mushy brain inside. It was not as wet as it should have been, and the _squish_ was only audible after he’d popped it in. Poor thing had probably cried so much that there was barely any lubricant coating its bloodshot eyes. It was like Christmas, the dulled jade of its iris threaded around with strings of red. Awfully sweet in the middle of summer!

Suddenly, a distant squawking startled him to attention. Kitter zoned in on the sound. A seagull, it seemed. 400 feet away. The only time such squawking occurred was when someone offered the birds barely enough food to feed one chick, or whenever someone—someone like Kitter—made their presence known. He bared his teeth in an instinctual show of anger.

The sound came again. Multiple seagulls now, and closer. Advancing quickly. Kitter barely reigned in a growl as he pulled his fingers from the doll’s eye.

Already, he thought bitterly, he was found _already._


	2. wippy the lippy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wippy makes his entrance, and Kitter isn't happy. Until he is.

“Darling, it’s likely I would’ve killed you had it been anyone other than you.” 

Kitter was far from joking, but Wippy only raised his eyebrows the same way one would do to a dog tied to a leash too short. How irritating, he thought, but made no move to retaliate. There seemed no need to when Wippy stayed behind the entrance of the cave. His friend _did_ have the audacity to survey the area with more curiosity than regard, though that was no matter. Wippy knew better than to take Kitter’s threats lightly, however often he may be subject to them.

“A menacing way to say you are glad to see me, but it flatters me nonetheless.” 

True that Kitter had been relieved when he’d caught sight of Wippy, but even so:

“I’d have preferred to see no one.” 

“Shame I am already here then.” 

With that, Wippy stepped past the cave threshold. Deemed it safe to enter, he did.

Kitter shut his eyes and begrudgingly buttoned up the last few knobs of his shirt. No point in leaving himself exposed when another predator was present, even if that predator was Wippy. It just seemed crude. He adjusted his collar with dry, blood-stained fingers, dusting its whiteness with a shallow red. Something that would brown quickly in the summer sun. It was a shame to dirty a shirt his lovely Adil had prepared for him, but as many predators preached: 

_Even the most beautiful prey will end up akin to the ugliest._

And what a saying that was! Kitter held it steadfast to his mind. He was sure that his darling had packed his clothing with his predatory tendencies in consideration. A smart and lovely little thing, Adil was. So thoughtful. Perhaps the darling had wanted to see all the collected bloodstains of his hunts when he returned home. Ah, just the prospect made Kitter want to dig up his washed loads and splatter them with new blood. Perhaps he should start wearing clothing packed from home more often than his newly obtained sets.

He opened his eyes to study his friend with less biased contempt, running his fingers through his sea-clumped hair and sitting back on his heels. His friend had tanned after weeks in the summer sun, and his hair grew wild and unkempt. Donned only in a light dressing of an unbuttoned dress shirt and casual trousers, Wippy looked as if he’d just stepped out from a rushed preparation room. It was an odd sight considering his friend’s strict upkeep back home. Sharp and slick, always a delight for Adil’s prostitutes when he checked in—or at least, that was what Kitter had been told.

He frowned. Perhaps that was why only Wippy got a discount at the business. Merchandise favored him.

But even Kitter had to admit his friend was an attractive predator. Sweet, baby blue hair and even sweeter eyes were not common features for a predator, yet his friend wore them well. A blue-ish grey, muted like a dull knife. Faded like it had been washed—that was the color of Wippy. It clashed strangely with his current sun-kissed skin, but it was nonetheless appealing. His choice of clothing fit comfortably, if not a bit loosely. Easy to remove, it was, without being overly skank. Common for this district.

Kitter ran his eyes over Wippy’s frame, blinking slowly. Sleek and lithe. Even smaller than Kitter. Many times had Wippy’s appearance made him appear like prey, even to other predators. The delicious vulnerability surrounding him did not help, especially at present. It was an indicator of weakness, the same aura of a child’s innocence showcasing a hunt to its mother. It wafted to Kitter’s seeking nostrils, fueling an ever-growing urge to drag his friend to the entrance of the cave. 

He could use Wippy as a practice mate, perhaps. Like he had done to his brothers. Force his friend’s head down into the water and inseminate his colon. With enough practice, Kitter was sure that even his lovely Adil would be able to get pregnant from his skill, however biologically impossible that may be. The children they’d make would be exceptionally beautiful—marvelous and strong. They’d take after lovely Adil.

Perhaps Wippy would live through the mating and give birth to Kitter’s children as well. He was a smart little doll, after all. He himself knew what predators did to their practice mates, and he’d use that knowledge to ensure his survival. The children would be clever too, perhaps. Take after Wippy. But Kitter wouldn’t treat them the same, no. Not anywhere near the way he’d treat Adil’s children. Pretty little things Wippy’s children would be, and pretty little things both he and Wippy would prey on. Feed them up nice and thick, then peel off their skins like plums. Ah, he should do that one day. Raise children like livestock. A fun game that would be, but he wondered if he was patient enough.

Kitter stared at his friend for a long while, then cast his eyes to the right. 

And what a shame. What a _shame!_ So long ago he could have forced Wippy into submission, but now the opportunity was no more. He shook his head and lamented. Even if his friend _could_ bear a child, Kitter was forbidden to copulate with him. It was really such a shame. Wippy had always been a beautiful specimen. A predator indeed, but no less captivating than Adil’s most lucrative prostitute. A darling sight with exciting mannerisms to match—Wippy would have been prey kept alive and conscious! The type to quip at Kitter’s technique and tolerate the pain. Wouldn’t scream out of pride even as his hair matted with his own blood. A would-be exciting game!

But close to his precious Adil, protected by law and code. Alas, Wippy was not a doll he could touch. Not now.

In fairness, the law itself was no matter to Kitter. His idiosyncrasies were not in accordance with the law, after all. Trivial and restricting, he thought it was, and was why his home resided in District X, a place of winding loopholes and mess. For his sweet Adil, however—no, he could not risk his darling’s business by being callous with code. Not when the business served him purpose as well. Minor infractions over a period of time were easily swept under the rug, and inter-district authorities didn’t have time to investigate a few lost children. His love, too, did not mind it when he had his slip-ups. 

But maiming a predator higher up in the system? A predator documented as part of the business? Killing their friend? Defaming Adil’s industry? Drawing the attention of the authorities monitoring Adil’s movements? 

That lovely doll would force him into abstinence! Ban him from the business! Perhaps castrate him! Ah, how horrible—utterly unthinkable!! Just the thought sent shudders up his spine!

So Kitter bit back his teeth and watched in silence as his friend made himself familiar with the cave. Wippy stepped this way and that, but was careful not to venture too close to the fresh doll on the ground. Good etiquette; at least Kitter need not to fret about territorial claims. Perhaps that was what made him less aggravated by his friend’s sudden appearance. He knew Wippy was no more an aggressive predator than he was. Or at least, no more actively _hostile_ than he was. Mayhaps. 

He frowned at the memory of Adil’s vehement insistence that he and Wippy were, indeed, _extremely_ aggressive predators. The memory was for moot, however, as his attention was drawn to Wippy’s voice. 

“I have been curious as to where you disappear, dawn and dusk.” 

The words were needlessly poetic and questionably accurate. Ah, just like the speaker himself, but Kitter kept the remark quiet. He watched as his friend reached out and traced the stray tally marks carved into the cave wall. _Seventeen,_ Wippy mouthed like he was impressed, then said aloud:

“But I did not follow you. It seemed rude of me.”

Kitter tilted his head at a peculiarity. Wippy’s scent now highlighted the rank smell of the doll’s corpse. He hadn’t noticed it before. Sweetness with sour urine and bitter feces; undertones of semen and sweat. The scent of mild blood. Ah, how mouth-watering! 

Replying now seemed the least of Kitter’s worries. The saliva coating his teeth felt as if it dripped down each individual canine, and he savored its teasing stimulation. How pleasurable it would be to sink his teeth into a soft piece of flesh, a way to purge the frustration brought upon by Wippy’s appearance. A doll’s thighs would suffice—a place of muscle and meat that bled light and sweet. 

His member twitched in interest. He glanced down at the doll’s mangled legs—most notably at its purpled, blotchy thighs—before returning to Wippy’s form. A slight flare of irritation presented itself at the reminder of what his friend had interrupted. But _why_ had he interrupted? Never before had Wippy been so ill-mannered.

Ah, he was curious, so perhaps replying wasn’t exactly the _least_ of his worries. 

“And what changed your mind, I wonder.” 

As if expecting those words, Wippy looked over his shoulder with a simper that bared clean teeth. His eyes were knowing; challenging. Likely, he’d noticed the scratchiness to Kitter’s voice. Or, just as likely, he knew precisely what he’d done by invading Kitter’s territory. 

Most probably, he was aware of both. 

“I encountered someone interesting,” a glance down to the corpse that quickly turned to a leer, “So interesting that I violated code the instant I caught wind of that scent, you see.”

Kitter raised his brows. The scent currently wafting from the corpse, he meant? Likely. The salty sea breeze weaving through the cave must have acted as both a carrier and enhancement. The saltiness most definitely emphasized the heaviness of Kitter’s arousal, and already Wippy’s senses were exceptionally keen. However… 

“Violated code?”

There was a silence. Then: 

 _“Yes,”_ Wippy said, strangely hissy and pleased. Kitter refrained from calling him a snake when he caught sight of glinting metal peeking from his friend’s mouth. Immediately, Kitter glanced to the piece of metal he’d earlier discarded: the piercing from the doll’s penis. He was deliciously shocked to realize the glint was identical. Oh, how exciting! What had his friend done? 

“A piercing, sweetheart? A piercing?” 

A culmination of enthusiasm. Wippy grinned and drew the metal back into hiding. “A piercing, my friend, a piercing!” 

He twirled from his place at the cave wall to where Kitter sat near the corpse. Kitter offered a twitch of irritation but no further protest. 

“From where? When? Why do you smell of no blood?” 

“I cleaned myself before arriving. The feds here are not to be messed with!” 

“Ah, a shame. But a souvenir you’ve gotten, I see! Give it here, dolly.” 

Wippy’s eyes shone in the cave light as he brought a delicate finger to his mouth. Kitter did not miss the furtive glance sent to the corpse, but he kept silent as his friend slithered the metal from its hiding place.

“Do take care with it, my friend. It is precious.” 

Wippy held the piece of metal between his index and thumb, then presented it down to Kitter. He studied it, noting the gemstone embedded in its arc. Precious indeed. With a chuckle, he said: 

“Reverse our positions, and it’d seem like you’re asking for marriage.” He took the offering with careful attention not to touch the stone. An emerald, it seemed.

Wippy threw his head back with a laugh and smoothly bent his knees to a crouch. The corpse’s scent seemed to hit him full force at the proximity change. His nostrils and eyes alike widened with heat, but his voice kept its steadiness. His eyes did not leave Kitter’s fingers. Good etiquette.

“Possible here in the coded districts, but never at home. I have yet to see a proper marriage proposal.” 

Kitter gave a flick of his brow. “Then hold out your smallest finger. I shall show you how it’s done.”

“Fascinating. I truly wonder how Adilane would react to a scene like this.” Wippy held out his pinky anyway. 

“Laugh and tell me it’s the wrong finger. My love wouldn’t take me seriously.” 

Wippy paused. “Is it not this finger?” He wiggled his pinky, and Kitter mocked sliding the piercing down to his friend’s knuckle. 

“Haven’t the slightest, but this ring won’t fit another of yours, dear ‘spouse.’” It was Kitter’s turn to pause, and he pulled the piercing off his friend’s finger. “Unless you want me to pierce your cockhead?” 

Wippy raised his brows, then threw his head back with another laugh. He deposited himself on his bottom, inches away from a slow-traveling puddle of urine. 

“Even if that were a proper proposal, green does not go with my eyes. My style tells me to refuse.”

“Shame you’re such a picky spouse.” 

Wippy hummed in a way that bespoke his lack of care and sat back on his palms. His eyes widened when his fingers made contact with something cool to the touch, and he held it up with slight fascination. “A piercing?” 

Kitter glanced up from his brief study of the gemstone. Emerald, indeed it was. Sweetly identical to the corpse’s eyes. He then caught sight of the shiny item between his friend’s fingers, and he smiled a full-teeth smile. 

 _“Yes.”_ Hissy. He understood now why Wippy had spoken strangely earlier. It was delightfully satisfying to boast a hunt! Perhaps he will sound the same when he tells his Adil of the piercing as well. 

“Are you a snake?”

“You are as well, if I am.” His remark garnered a snort from his friend. “Say, this gem is real?” 

“I believe so. I am pondering on selling it.” Wippy rolled the doll’s metal between his fingers. He met Kitter’s eyes. “This one belongs to you, yes?” 

Kitter nodded. “Mine, yes. And you shouldn’t. X predators will lowball you.” 

“To the Market District I go, then.” 

“You’d fare better. Do let me tag along, dolly. Cute little things’re bountiful in that district.” 

“Though I wish, I doubt the feds will allow you past the Market’s border. Just look at what you have done here. There is no plausible way they have not heard of your behavior. I am afraid I will have to go alone.” 

“Ah, but all borders approve me if I provide proper ID. Interdistrict authorities—feds, you call them—are no matter,” a breath to shift closer to the doll, “as they hold no gain to stop me from passing. _Punishment_ is their game, not prevention. They may have heard of me, but that doesn’t mean they plan to hold me accountable for my past.”

“Fascinating. So their wallets are filled by the quantity of crimes, not severity. No better way to make money than to stack up on easy process predators at present, I see. They will not stop you if they think they can catch you in the act. Correct?” 

“Precisely. Much easier to convict a predator red-handed than to spend hours slaving away at an investigation. The only problem for them is that they’ll never catch me, see, and therefore never punish me.”

Wippy tilted his head at Kitter’s self-assured claim. Seemed interested, but still too soon to tell. Wippy’s eyes glinted with a test.

“But how are you to escape punishment if law punishes you for hunting? Market is on high surveillance. You would not be able to lay a hand on prey without being shunted to a prosecutor.”

Kitter smiled at the expected question. “Hunting’s prohibited within the Market, yes, but what if prey were to follow me home to X? There’s no law punishing me, nor them, for something that was, as feds like to call it, _‘consensual.’”_

Wippy seemed taken aback, but he processed the sequence in his mind. As the gears turned, he said:

“I see. And no law punishes you for _persuading_ prey to follow you. Nothing to prove that what you had done was non-consensual if the prey says it was not. And back home at X, no law prohibits killing it should the prey go through with its naivety…”

He looked to Kitter for confirmation, then grinned at the nod he received. “...It is like luring prey to a trap, I see. My friend, that is fascinating!” 

Ah, a smart one, Wippy was! Almost as clever as lovely Adil. If only he didn’t tick Kitter off as much as he did at present.

“Indeed. Alas, onto another subject, darling. From where did you get this piercing?” Kitter asked as a change of pace, holding the gemstone up to light. Wippy’s gaze went half-lidded in nonchalance. No answer, Kitter thought in irritation. Instead, his friend’s eyes again slid to the corpse to appreciate it, then widened as it caught details of a mutilated cocklet. He sat up straighter.

“This here is from that boy?” Wippy held the metal-only piercing up at eye-level. “So young?” 

Kitter frowned. “Where’d you think it was from?” 

“A previous prey. Not— _wow,”_ Wippy breathed out in exhilaration, “not from such a pretty, pretty little thing.” 

Kitter raised his brows at the familiar phrase. He and Wippy spent too much time together. “Its mother pierced it young. A smart move, but perhaps not so much in retrospect.”

Wippy hummed in faux interest. He didn’t seem to be listening. Instead his eyes ran over the doll, garnering details and coming up with an estimate. Such a hungry look in his eyes, starved and empty with blown-wide pupils. It was at times like these that Kitter was reminded his friend was a predator akin to him.

“An hour, no two. Nearing three. A ripe little bitch,” Wippy muttered to himself. Then with urgency he snapped his head to Kitter. “May I touch it? May I?” 

A spark of irritation lit in Kitter’s eyes at his friend’s excitement. Touch it when he, the hunter himself, had been interrupted? Annoying. Impolite. He studied Wippy closely, taking notice of the freshly washed scent of clothing. An exposed neck as well; oh so sweet, but oh so safe from his teeth. It’d be difficult to explain to his lovely Adil why there was a mating mark on their friend’s neck, even if the mark itself was made without intention of sex. He licked his teeth and glanced away, down to the corpse. 

Then inhaled sharply at the sight. Fuckable, it was. Most definitely. He could understand his friend’s excitement. The brief period of neglect the corpse faced seemed to age it akin to fine wine. The contents of its intestines must have purged itself while he and Wippy were occupied. A mass of sludge had hardened right outside the gaping wound of its anus, a spoiled color of blackish grime and pink putty. His pounding must have battered free hidden chunks of compact fecal matter that traveled out with the flow of semen. A seminal enema, how marvelous! A refreshing, gelatinous snack it would be while fucking the doll’s hole, or perhaps used as a jelly atop one of its organs. Akin to the chunky ice cream his love liked to eat on his off-days, it was! 

Kitter tilted his head to gain a better view of the doll’s hole, and he saw Wippy straighten from the corner of his eye. He gave his friend a warning glance but didn’t waste time reprimanding him, not when the doll was giving him a gift of a show. Ah, such a cutie, this one was. Kitter placed Wippy’s piercing to the side as he studied the corpse. Underneath the thick pile of sludge was a puddle of urine. Like a soggy sponge, the semi-solid mass was. 

Kitter didn’t resist the urge to stick two of his fingers into the mound of purged intestinal contents. It swallowed his fingers up to their second bend with a squish, and his member twitched at the feeling. Oh, wonderful! A sizeable offering this doll was giving him. He could’ve ballooned its intestines with just a few more loads if this amount was released with only one round. Such a shame everything had escaped from its anus! He would’ve liked to keep fucking it until his fluids gargled up its messy mouth. 

Perhaps he should invest in a plug of some sort, something to stuff his dolls’ orifices with. He needed a way to keep his dolls nice and leak-free as he went about his days. His darling Adil sold those types of contraptions at the business, if he remembered correctly. But expensive, they were! Well-made indeed, but much too costly. A makeshift plug would be better. Something he could make use of on the fly. A rock? An ocean clam? A ghastly pearl? One of its organs, to be conservative and organic? Oh, fun! He would have to experiment.

But for now, he had to settle for an empty doll. 

With his two fingers, Kitter scooped up the sludge and brought it to his mouth. Only a small amount, though. He just wanted a taste. He could feel Wippy’s eyes closely follow his movement, but he paid his friend no mind. Rather, as the taste of blood and acrid fecal matter mingled with sweetened semen, Kitter admired the babe’s posture. Yes, he definitely needed to take reference of what he’d done to make such an appetizing pose!

Its gaping wide hole was perfectly in the center of its pelvis, tilted up to the cave ceiling. Easily accessible and symmetrical, framed by untouched meat. Its little cocklet acted as a decorative ornament, a small bow atop a pretty head. Its thighs fit snugly around its abdomen, surrounding its eviscerated organs like a bowl. Lucky parts of skin touched packed segments of purpling intestines. Oh, darling baby doll. So pretty. A shame he wouldn’t be fucking its intestines like a sock hole—too loaded with fecal matter, it was. Fucking its colon was a faraway dream unless he planned on getting Wippy to suck out the entrails’ contents. 

Ah, but even that was a faraway dream itself! Kitter clicked his tongue. His friend didn’t deserve that task, he thought bitterly. He’d enjoy it too much. But Kitter was not patient enough to go through with it himself. A tedious task it was, cleaning a doll’s constipation without waste. Irritating! Had Wippy come in later rather than sooner, he would’ve been in a better mood to give his friend the leftovers. Maybe then they would’ve had the fun of slipping inside lax, portable tunnels on their way back home. Clean intestines would have been an extra gift to give his lovely Adil as well!

But alas, Wippy made it impossible for him to be generous. Such a troublesome friend.

Frustration made Kitter crawl to the front of the doll’s hole and palm his erection. He came close enough to smell the strangely heated yet cold channel of its anus, and his pupils dilated at the scent. Musky and warm in an odd yet expected way. He paid careful attention to spread his knees wide enough so as to not dirty his skin in the puddle of urine. Though, soon enough everything was to be soiled anyway. Wippy wisely backed away and stayed silent, but his stare raked across the corpse too intently. 

“Turn around, dolly,” Kitter said without looking up. From his vantage point, the crevices of its intestines made him salivate. The hole he’d made in its abdomen while digging for its kidneys was smaller now, as if it had shriveled up and shrunken. No matter. He’ll enlarge it as he fucked it again. He felt Wippy’s stare bore into the side of his neck, but without a word his friend followed the order. The trail Wippy’s eyes left on his skin made Kitter restless.

Ah, what should he do first? He licked his lips, teasing himself through his shorts. To help his contemplation, he swiped a finger through the amber urine on the cave floor, only to be delighted at the resistance that met his swipe. Sticky! Like honey, perhaps. He sucked his finger off with great joy. Sour, sour honey. The sweetest kind. 

It was then that his attention was drawn to a peculiarity on its hole. He’d ripped up the poor thing so badly that what seemed to be strands of its sphincter muscle hung loosely in and around its channel. Curious. Like strands of floss. With the same fingers he’d used to sample the sludge, Kitter collected the webby strings of dead muscle and gore to study. It bunched strangely on his fingertips like tangled hair, but it was stretchier and elastic. He rolled up the strands into a small ball, then licked it into his mouth. It stuck well and melted with his saliva. He hummed. Flavorless, but quite fun to eat! A new delicacy?

He collected another sample, this time without rolling it into a ball. Like a spider web when like this, it was! Another story to tell to his darling Adil, ah! His member pulsated at the thought of his love. He smiled, then pulled apart his shorts to the side. The seams broke easily—designed for this, it was. One of the district’s specialty items. He was glad he’d obtained a sizeable quantity on his first hunt of the vacation. 

He threw his torn shorts to the side and stroked himself in preparation to enter the doll. Oh, so inviting, the little thing was. Its wound of a hole was just begging for him to enter, like it was in need of him to break the rest of the feces in its colon and flush it out. Stray, thinner strands of its ripped flesh strung across it gaping anus. A thin barrier to cross, one that he’d barely feel as the strands broke across his cockhead. 

“Let’s see,” Kitter murmured to himself. He barely noticed his friend straighten his posture as he loomed over the doll. Its legs were brittler than before, so when he leaned his weight into his hands—which had grasped the back of its knees—, he heard a meek yet devastating crunch of bone. He must have shattered the remaining structure. He wouldn’t be surprised if a shard of bone was to pierce its skin and subsequently his palm, but he’d have to punish it if that were to happen. 

Without looking and without hands, Kitter positioned the head of his cock near the doll’s hole and grinned. Its anus had looked so torn and open below its small, mutilated cocklet, yet it felt dwarfed in comparison to his penis. Cute. A darling ego-booster, too, but that was something he’d neglect mentioning his love when he got back. Sweet Adil would jest at his so-called “predatory insecurity” otherwise! Ah, how he missed his love! 

He hissed as he sunk his member into the doll’s cold, stiffened channel. There was little resistance, but the journey was sticky and unlubricated. Despite his earlier assumptions, he vividly felt the strands of webby gore snap across his crown as he breached its entrance. Marvelous. The doll’s flesh was still raw, though it bled no more. It clung to his cock as he pressed inside, acting as a suction and pulling its perineum into itself. There was a shockingly cold moisture that he felt, almost crusty. Must be his dried semen from earlier. Hard pieces of what had to be fecal matter massaged his shaft as it went in, making him lick his teeth as flares of pleasure shot up his spine. Must be embedded in the walls of the canal, those clumps of waste. A wonderful massage. 

Kitter felt stickiness on his knee. He belatedly realized that he must be touching the puddle of semi-solid urine, and he sighed. Shame. He supposed it was inevitable. Kitter relaxed his hold on the doll’s legs and scooted backwards. The movement jostled its body and pressed a rather prominent chunk of waste into a vein on his cock. He growled. Naughty little thing. Guess he had reward it for being brave. He repositioned himself to bury his fingers in the doll’s abdominal cavity, relishing the cold relief of a corpse in the beating summer heat. Stiff but still a delight. It was harder to feel for his shaft in the doll’s intestines, but that was no matter. 

Kitter ground his pelvis to the doll’s to help his hand find the segment of intestine his cock was nestled in. Instead he felt squishy putty beneath his ballsack, and he chuckled. The sludge, no doubt. He’ll worry about that later. He dug his fingers in more aggressively as the doll’s organs had become more rigid and firm, less yielding to his exploring. Its flesh almost felt plastic. Ah, but no matter. No, no matter at all.

“As good as you were last time,” Kitter crooned as he slowly slid his member from its hole. He had to reassure it more! Look at how sadly it clung to his cock as he backed away. He watched, partly enraptured, as a piece of its colon semi-deflated at his withdrawal. It was a miniscule difference—the doll’s organs were so packed with matter that the shape didn’t warp much, but still it was apparent to his sharp study. Sweet thing was just shy. “Don’t you worry your pretty little bottom, darling.” 

Really, it was so cute. Tiny beneath his hands. Its intestines were merely small coils bursting at the seams with matter. Out of sheer impulse he raised his right hand high up into the sky, curled it into a fist, then brought it down onto the little doll with as much force as he could.

**_SPLAT_ **

Wippy’s whole-body flinch caught his attention. When his gaze traveled to his friend’s frame, he howled in laughter. The sound of his voice boomed and bounced off the cave walls, echoing his amusement. Now _this_ was a story he’d love to tell his Adil. 

“Oh dear.” Kitter said after his laughter settled. He used his thumb to wipe off the corner of his mouth. The debris of the explosion surely smeared on his face. “I didn’t think that would happen.”

He heard Wippy take a shaky breath. “...Be that as it may, it is not as though I am complaining.” 

As if to back up his claim, Wippy reached with his hand to wipe the foulness splattered across the back of his shirt. He did not turn around. Good etiquette. He then brought his hand to his mouth, out of Kitter’s sight. Must be eating it, ah. He’d given an inadvertent gift to his friend. 

Another chuckle, then Kitter clicked his tongue. It was more out of play than true irritation. “Giving yourself up to other men? Naughty child.”

Kitter did not pay any mind to his friend’s snort—“Are you Father Christmas?”—, instead scooting up into the urine and licking the fecal matter from his thumb. He scrunched his nose at the bitter taste. Too strong alone, it was. Good thing he had a wide selection of accompaniments in front of him! He looked down at the precious little doll and couldn’t stop himself from cooing at the sight. So, so cute! He really would never tire of this! Idly he swiped a finger into the honeyed urine and stuck it in his mouth. 

The force of impact his fist had made on the poor thing’s insides ruptured its rubbery membranes. Like a balloon popped, or, perhaps more accurately, a burst pipe with how violent the ejection of matter was. Kitter glanced at his friend’s back and felt a rush of euphoric amusement. Oh, what an explosion! He made a good choice in aiming for the left side of its intestines. He snickered at the filthy smear on Wippy’s back. Really, he hadn’t expected that to happen. If anything, he’d forgotten his friend was even there! 

Kitter brought his eyes back and stared at the ruins of the doll’s intestines, a mess leaking with semi-solid and runny fecal matter. A blob of gore; muggy and dark. Not much contrast to its darkened entrails did the feces give. The doll must have been bleeding internally while it was alive. Well, not like he could make an assumption when it had been dead for so long. Blood could have mixed in its organs while he was fucking it. 

He brought his fingers to the rupture site, tingling with the need to touch it. The cave was dim, but there was enough light to glint off the doll’s ethereal pale glow. Pretty. He licked his teeth and slowly eased his cock back inside its channel, savoring the kissing sensation of its ruined pucker. This time there were no snapping strands of gore to greet his entrance. No matter! Still deliciously pleasing. 

With an eroticism about his movements, Kitter rubbed his fingers up and down the slick of feces and liquid at the rupture. It was wetter than he’d expected. The matter must have retained the liquid that would have otherwise oozed out long ago. Quite nice. The burst intestine was popped and deflated like a pathetic ragdoll, and he lifted a limp piece of the intestinal wall to feel it stretch. Cute. His lovely Adil liked materials like these, but he wondered if his love would appreciate something decayed. At the thought of the darling waiting for him at home, he sighed and ground down his pelvis against the doll’s. His ballsack hit the putty below its hole, massaging him. A muted pleasure as he focused his attention on the doll’s insides. 

As his left hand played with the burst segment, his right hand traveled to its ripped cocklet. He held the shaft in his palm—so small! No thicker than two of his fingers put together. Ah, adorable. Kitter pulled his hips back and eased back in with leisure, thumbing its torn glans. Almost split symmetrically in half with how he’d torn the piercing off. The flesh was dry yet strangely wet, not with blood but another fluid. Seemed like a lubricant. Ah, could it be? Perhaps it had ejaculated postmortem! A funny possibility. 

Oh! An idea struck Kitter with excitement. He withdrew from the rupture site and used his hands to hold both the flaps of its glans. With careful and measured strength, he tested the give of its shaft, pulling down both flaps at the same time. The flesh only stretched like thin plastic. Ah, wouldn’t be torn easily, especially when it was so small. There was not enough surface area to split the cocklet down the middle bare-handed. A shame he’d have to use a knife. 

He lost interest in the cocklet soon after. Why bother idling when there was such a delicious array of things to play with? His eyes traveled up the doll’s abdomen and bloody chest. Its nipples were perky and upright. Cute! Kitter had the thought to cut them loose with the knife used to split the doll’s cocklet in half, but he’ll do that later. So many possibilities, this one offered! Two weeks spent well raising the doll. 

Its face was still pretty even after its neglect and abuse. Blood collected and pooled outside both of its ears, and there were small chunks of solid flesh mixed in as well. Marvelous! Either the chunks were the doll’s brain, or they were bits and pieces of dislodged inner ear organs. No matter whichever one they were, really. 

“Charming either way,” he said under his breath. He stared at the foggy green eyes peering up at him and winked. One eyeball was deep in its socket, the other threatening to bulge out. Such an eccentric little thing! Adorable. Its blood had dried on its skin; a beautiful contrast to its green eyes. Christmas, he’d thought earlier. The blood was like makeup, almost, as it was smeared all over its lips. Some trails of blood seemed thinner and translucent. Must’ve been its snot and tears that diluted the red’s vividness. A watercolor painting! Would brown quickly in the summer sun. 

He glanced at his shirt and chuckled. Very messy. Such a sweet thing.

As Kitter was admiring the little doll’s face, his thrusts became more purposeful. He set a steady rhythm, milking his shaft on the bumps of the doll’s canal and its tight, unmoving rim. Like fucking a glass bottle, it was, but oh, this was much better. 

Far, far better.

Kitter took his right hand and buried it back inside the hole of the doll’s insides. It was much easier to find where his cockhead hit the walls of its colon while he was moving. Its insides warped around his hand and swallowed him up, giving him a massage as his movements battered the little thing’s walls. He growled as he squeezed down on its colon, hard enough that he feared it may rupture there as well. It rippled beneath his palm like an oversized worm. He felt a section of compact fecal matter break off within the intestine while it was in his hold, and he grinned. Fun game! Here it goes, he thought. 

Kitter squeezed harder to ease the broken chunk down the channel to meet his cockhead. He moved his hand across the sausage to inch it to where he wanted it. He relished the squishing noises the meat made as it slithered beneath his hand. Forced peristalsis, slowly and carefully until he thrust his cockhead in and felt hard resistance. Out of curiosity, he glanced to the rupture site and breathed out in exhilaration at the bubbling mess. His squeezing must have pushed out feces both ways! Ah, fun, fun. A waste but so much fun! Perhaps he should try forcing it up its esophagus next! Later, later. Maybe later.

He scooted up closer to the corpse and braced himself upwards on his knees. He had to keep a hold on the doll’s colon to keep the chunk where he wanted, but he couldn’t brace his left hand on its legs to help steady himself. If he did that, he feared he’d tear the poor baby’s leg off! He was saving that for later. For now, its legs were safe to stay as a love handle. Shame he wouldn’t be able to use his entire body weight, but at least he could compromise. 

Kitter steadied himself by resting his left hand on the stone ground, near the doll’s limp hand. The heel of his palm touched the doll’s honeyed urine. He slid his shaft backwards so that only his tip was inside its channel, purring at the slow, scratching massage the doll gave him. He truly _should_ invest in inventing a cadaver massager. It would sell well if it could replicate this exquisite sensation. 

Kitter took time to admire where his shaft entered the doll. Down to his scrotum was a greasy sort of grime that bespoke of how deep he’d invaded its insides. Shallowly buried as he was now, its raw sphincter muscle adhered to his shaft, stuck to a section beneath his crown, tight and ready to yield. Should he decide to pull out completely, an audible _pop!_ was sure to be heard. Really, it was adorable. 

He eased in an inch into the doll to see its hole give way and suck its surrounding skin into its canal. There was dried, crusted blood all around its perineum and small testicles. Kitter licked his lips and pulled back again, further this time. The doll’s hole protested his movement, and he found his eyes riveted to the seemingly glued-on elastic muscle stretched around his cock. He pulled back just a bit more—just a bit, truly. The muscle clung to the same place on his shaft, and rather than snapping with tension it continued to stretch like rubber until it became translucent. Oh, how it reminded him of his love’s lips suckling his cock as he pulled away, pretty eyes peering up at him and begging him to fuck into a tight, tight throat. An obedient little thing that knew how to beg without words. A darling baby that was seemingly made for him. _Ah._

 _“Good_ baby doll,” Kitter snarled as he snapped his hips forward. His balls slapped against the doll’s pelvis, scraping through the sludge and echoing a loud smack through the cave. His cockhead met rough, lumpy resistance. Good, good. Absolutely marvelous. He squeezed down on its intestine and ground the lump of matter onto his tip. Ah, like a scrub, this could be! A filthy squashing noise slithered into his ears as he continued to knead the segment around his cockhead. It was a superior melody to the screaming that irritated his ears when he copulated with live dolls.

Kitter swallowed at the white-hot heat pooling into his gut. He wasn’t going to last very long. He slowly pulled out of the doll’s hole, this time without looking at where his cock breached its rim. Too exciting, that stimulation was. His orgasm would come far too soon. Instead he kept his eyes glued to the pretty little thing’s deformed face, imagining how responsive it’d be if it were still alive. He’d have to gag it to avoid the screaming. 

Annoying and loud, he thought screaming was. Completely unnecessary when bodies already reacted so well on their own. Every touch and movement he made, all responded to by his prey’s bodies. How arousing it was to watch a little thing twist and writhe in fear—how absolutely _darling_ it was to see the color drain from its body. How sweet to see a prey’s eyes widen and well with tears, like a glaze to a dessert. This one especially would cry until its eyes dried up and fell out. Its youth and dependency on its mother assured that. Ah, adorable! Kitter gave the doll a gentle thrust forwards, but jerked at the last second to batter the wall of matter inside its colon. 

The smell of feces was strong and foul. Nearly tangible. He inhaled deeply and sighed, closing his eyes to savor it. Wonderfully fragrant. Kitter slid his shaft from the dolly mid-way, feeling the sphincter stretch and its muscle tear, then ground back inside. He and his friend enjoyed the smell, but the poor little thing might not fare so well if it were alive. Might suffocate trying to breathe in the scent of its own waste. Vomit and die choking behind the gag. Ah, cute, cute! 

He opened his eyes to take in the details of the doll’s face. He’d broken it well; used enough force to shatter its skull, but not enough to obliterate the cute little quirks of its face: green eyes—though blotchy with red; small nose—though snapped to the left; round cheeks—though shattered flat on one side; and a nice, stretchy mouth—though he’d tear its cheeks if he were to fuck its face. Again, he pulled out mid-way and slammed back into its intestines, meeting his cockhead with a coordinated grind of fecal matter. Like chiseling a statue of feces but with his cock, he thought, and he laughed out loud at the comparison. 

“You sound like a maniac,” he heard Wippy mutter. With slight surprise, he averted his eyes to his friend. Completely forgotten he was not alone, Kitter did! Still turned around, Wippy was, but his right shoulder was moving up and down. His elbow jutted out then back in. A potent scent mingled in the air. Ah, funny, so funny; his friend was great entertainment! 

“Are you masturbating, dolly?” Kitter laughed again and drove back into the doll with momentum. His amusement fueled his arousal to greater heights, and he could feel the coils of his gut come to its limit. Ah, dear darling, he was going to flood this little thing’s tunnels with semen. Give a child a multitude of children, if only it could bear. Marvelous! He’d never tire of this!

“You are as well, if I am,” Wippy said, repeating Kitter’s earlier words without turning around. Kitter looked down at the hand wrapped around the doll’s sausage intestine, ever so near his shaft buried in cold slick and waste. Near manic laughter—perhaps his friend was right in his claim—rumbled from Kitter’s throat as he bent over the doll and bared his teeth to its eyes, sinking deeper into its channel. How fearful would it look if it were still alive? How terrified? Pretty, pretty little thing, _ah,_ he’d never, ever tire of this! 

Kitter grit his teeth as he chased after his orgasm, thundering on his heels with swift blows to his gut. His balls smacked against the putty and the doll’s poor little buttocks, bruising it even after death. _Thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap,_ its stretchy skin sang. The song filled the cave and likely urged on his friend’s masturbation. Ah, and like his friend, the precious baby wouldn’t know how darling it looked with its legs spread to the point of deformity. He should cut its head off and place it near where he defiled it so it could watch with those foggy green eyes what he did to its corpse. He tightened his grip on its intestinal segment to the point that it made a loud, wet _squirrrtthhsh_ and a piece of flesh flew onto his cheek. 

Pop, did it go! Lucky baby doll! Now it had two, three, four, _five_ holes to excrete its waste. Its mouth, its cocklet, its anus, its one burst segment and the other just popped. Oh, darling baby doll; gorgeous, just gorgeous, aren't cha? he thought repeatedly in his head. More than likely his thoughts leaked into his voice.

With one final, devastating _THWAPhhsh_ as Kitter ground into his fisted hold and his cockhead pushed through the popped open segment, his semen flowed thickly from his slit. He exhaled a heavy, shaky breath as he watched his cream ooze over his hand and into the swirling hole of its leaking intestines. A white sauce poured over a delicious entree; a milky sweetener to bitter black coffee. The only sign of life in a pithole of stank death—his swimming sperm in a doll’s infertile cavity. 

 _“Fuck,”_ he heard Wippy grit out. Kitter laughed without looking up from the corpse. Must have reached his orgasm as well, his friend did! A potty mouth as always. Again, Kitter closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of feces was sweeter now. Mild, mellowed out by his and Wippy’s semen. Pineapple and fruit-flavored tropicality with how their diets had been altered since the start of the vacation. Splendid. He’d never tire of this, never ever. Not when it was so much fun.

He opened his eyes and sighed. Self-indulgently did he rub some of his semen into his cockhead, mixing it until it was a peanut brown when combined with the doll’s surrounding feces. He could play hide-and-seek like this with his penis, he thought, then laughed again. Wippy’s humor must be catching onto him. Just for the fun of it, he pulled back until his tip was no longer visible from the newly burst intestine. The intestinal wall sagged with a squish, and he hissed at the lump of fecal matter that scraped a vein on his cock. Again, such a naughty little thing. He laughed once more, then buried himself back in to the hilt, licking his soiled fingers clean. Bitter and sweet, just like he’d thought. His cockhead popped out the intestine, pulling parts of the wall with it.

“Peek-a-boo,” he said—to which his friend, whose back still hadn’t turned but surely knew of what he was doing, replied, “I-see-you”—and they both threw their heads back and laughed and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to change the tag "minor scat" to just "scat" after this chapter haha. much love <3


	3. nosy little thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet of a secretive exchange of letters before Kitter and his friends had arrived to the vacation site.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter that’s more of a bonus than anything

In response to your previous letter:  
Wipper X,

Please never address me with “Dearest” again. Not only does it make me uncomfortable, but also I will not be responsible should he find out that you have addressed me as such. I’m sure in the future we will be unable to mask this communication any longer. You know as well as I do that he’ll be just as cross with you four years from now as he would be in two days. Please be careful. I don’t wish to lose you.

I’m glad to see you have become accustomed to this new messaging system. Please never spread news of this to anyone but the two of us. This letter should reach you by the time you’re boarded on travel. Also, because interdistrict communication via letters is limited, please excuse my future lengthy clauses.

First and foremost, I should thank you for agreeing to this deal. You have my sincerest gratitude. He isn’t the most agreeable target to study, as you must know. I’m sure you are aware that you are also risking being uncovered by authorities, as this scheme is borderline illegal. Despite this, please do not fret about that aspect. Legality is easy to overcome. For him, however, I cannot assure your safety. Please forgive me and exercise caution.

Secondly, there are guidelines you must follow for this transaction to be completed successfully. I will not retract the entire exchange should you neglect following a single guideline, but please be aware that I will deduct assets from my end of the deal.

The guidelines for your task are as followed:

  1. Daily coordinates at precisely:
    1. 0230
    2. 0730
    3. 1200
    4. 1800
    5. 2000
    6. 2300
    7. 0000
  2. Activities at said coordinates
  3. Clothing/attire/appearances
  4. Prey tracking
    1. If possible, please provide names and appearances
    2. There should be serial codes on any and all jewelry items belonging to the prey (please keep him unaware of this)
    3. Please acquire DNA samples (hair and blood preferred)
  5. Diet changes
    1. Please provide samples
    2. Please bring home fruit snacks
    3. And ice cream
    4. Please
    5. I will pay (separate from our transaction)
  6. Changes in behavior
  7. Sexual deviancy
  8. Any and all mentions of gifts
  9. Predicted time of return
  10. Any and all involvement of interdistrict authorities
    1. This includes friendly interactions
    2. Please report names and appearances



That concludes the guidelines for your task. They begin within the hour you arrive at your destination. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to respond with them. The transaction will be completed within the hour of your return.

Lastly, please refrain from contacting other parties in District X for the duration of your vacation. Thank you, and please enjoy.

Safe travels,  
Adilane X

* * *

 

KITTER’S Dearest Adilane,

I was not expecting such a formal response. Now I regret writing so sloppily in my previous letter. And are you trying to gain my favor by saying such cute things? Do you understand the weight of your words? You could get me killed. I do not have to be the one spouting offense for him to turn on me. Even you must know that.

I must say you are very thorough. Since you were so kind as to provide me a list, Mister Businessman, here are my reactions to the guidelines in a similar manner:

  1. Daily coordinates may be a struggle. He is not very predictable and also very sharp. I am unsure if I can accomplish this while escaping detection
  2. Same as above, though if he were to frequent a location multiple times throughout the day, it can be assumed that he has found a den to feast
  3. I have yet to see Kitter alter his clothing**
  4. This one piques my interest. Serial codes? Fascinating! Why do you need DNA?
  5. Rest assured he will bring back all the snacks you could think of without need for my help
  6. I cannot pinpoint a time in my life when he has had a predictable behavior pattern to change from. Instead I will note all the interesting things he does over the course of the vacation. Is that acceptable?
  7. Deviancy for him is a life of celibacy!
  8. Noted
  9. Rest assured I will try my best to usher him back sooner
  10. Hopefully I will not need to report this. Feds where we are heading are anything but friendly



Within an hour of my return instead of a day? My, are you not a fussy client. Down to the last second will you milk me. I had not planned to contact anyone besides you, but now I wonder what the purpose of this restriction is? Do you plan a surprise?

Regardless, I will enjoy myself to the fullest, Kitter’s dearest. I am sure Kitter will as well.

**At the time I had written this, I did not understand. But now I see. You wish to know if he has worn the clothing you have gifted him! Fear not. Three hours ago, he changed into the night clothing you specially bought for him. Does it please you to know he has worn something of yours before even arriving at the destination? I expect bonus pay for this snippet of information

***Why is it that you speak so kindly over letters but neglect the same kindness in real dialogue? I have yet to hear you say please to me though the majority of my income goes towards your business

I also expect a “please” with my return,  
Wipper BND


	4. the blame game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wippy manages to sway Kitter's thoughts towards boarding early. Getting "humiliated" was not part of the plan, and neither was pushing Kitter into a mental collapse, but it is no matter! Both predators recover from trauma quite easily!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other words: the mantra of "no matter" is becoming more and more like a form of denial than a show of indifference

“Such a sweet baby, isn’t it?” Kitter crooned, combing bits and pieces of debris from the doll’s hair. Even when salted with the sea breeze and matted with its own waste, its darling brown seemed to gloss in the light. He brushed a strand of blood-gelled hair behind its ear, then scritched its swollen tragus in affection. His cooing went up an octave when he felt his nail scrape matter off its skin. “A pretty baby, hm? Arentcha? Arentcha? A good little doll, hm?”

From beside him, presumably in front of the doll’s gaping hole, he heard Wippy snort. “How strange it is to hear you speak like that. Does your heart grow soft alongside your phallus?”

A bark of laughter interrupted Kitter’s crooning throat. Funny, funny. Even derisive, those words were, but Kitter merely shook his head and let it slide. No need to spare his friend a glance. What for, when impertinence was no matter? At least _one_ doll was being a darling. 

He cooed and cupped said doll’s head, resting his wrist on the cold, handprint-bruised leg beside its ear. Just look at its dented skull, ah. It almost fit right into his palm! 

“Aww,” he couldn’t help but say. He heard Wippy snort once more, but with great glee he ignored it. The corpse beckoned all his attention! Poor thing must be sore in its long-held escort position. Indeed, its hands must be chafed bloody after rubbing on the cave floor with his movements! Very enthusiastically had he fucked it, he couldn’t deny. Poor little abused thing. Not that he was looking at its hands to see if his assumptions were true, and neither would he be able to tell what blood was from its stomach and what blood was from its hands if he were to try. 

Well, no matter. If he wanted to, and if he could move the sweetheart’s arms without breaking them, he could arrange the doll like it’d been spreading its legs apart for him in its final moments. Rigor mortis would preserve the feel. A good baby slut that vied for his attention, it’d become. Indeed! That’s how it should be! A magnificent photo it’d be for his Adil too, he thought. A model representation for the businesses’ prostitutes!

Ah, but pinning it up may cause some jealousy to arise…

An affectionate smile graced his face. Precious, precious, however irked his Adil would be. Well, once more: it was no matter. For now, he merely admired the darling’s upper half. A conscious neglect he’d practiced when fucking its hole, he’ll admit. But now was better than never! Especially with something of this caliber. 

His fingers went to study by feeling around its head. Too deformed was the doll’s skull for its well-rounded mop of hair to regain volume. Instead, a massive brushed out tangle presided as a curtain to a parietal cave. The doll’s head was akin to that of a squashed apple. His fingers must’ve dug into its skull far harder than he’d intended when bracing its head to snuff it. Poor thing!

Not to say that it wasn’t a sweet memory, though. And neither was it a mistake.

The dolly must be sad that he hadn’t noticed the concave before. Again, too busy fucking its guts, he’d been. And those _eyes,_ ah. Too pretty. How could he have possibly noticed anything past its jewel eyes? Especially when it looked so cutely above its broken nose! 

Kitter swept at the doll’s cheeks to mimic wiping away its tears, just as its mother would’ve when it was alive. Shh, shh. Cold and stiff, the doll’s skin was. A striking contrast to the flushed cheeks it’d had when its blood had been circulating rather than leaking; when its blabbering had called for its mother, asking in increasing desperation _Why? Why? Why?!;_ screeching as its sweet little nose gunned for the rock, higher and higher in pitch the closer the rock became—

And on impact, the best part, its squeals had turned into squeaks of laryngeal spasms. A chirping little bird!  The quieted screaming had given leeway for the crackling of bone to ring. Or perhaps those noises had been nearby rocks crumbling with the force of the smash. Regardless, the melody had been adorably pleasant.

And oh, it’d been so much fun—unexpired fun!

But his excitement had gotten the better of him at the time, he knew. The doll’s blood had splattered on his face, and when he’d licked his lips on instinct, the taste had roared such a fire in him that he’d lost his composure. That must’ve been when his fingers had caved the doll’s head in. Merely a happy accident, if not an inadvertent improvement. The thumb of his right hand flexed in memory of bone caving beneath it. Marvelous, ah! 

It was a wonder the darling’s forehead was still in tact, for Kitter was sure it must’ve taken the brunt force of the smash. The structural integrity of its skull had to have been compromised by all the cracks in its bone. To survey, he brushed the doll’s hair back and pressed his thumb to the center of its forehead. 

_Push—creak._

Ah. Felt a give in the bone, he did. Fun, fun. He could either collapse the bone and peel its scalp from the trinkets of its skull, or test his strength and crack the sweetheart open like an egg; pour its scrambled yolk onto his tongue and its albumen down his throat. Both would be lovely to tell his Adil of, but Kitter figured that he’d decide later. For now, he found the doll’s new appearance quite endearing compared to its living counterpart. An intact forehead was all part of the appeal. Just look how nicely it rounded out with those slim darling legs framing it! 

He coaxed his fingers into the doll’s sea-clumped hair, feeling no different than his own besides the griminess of its blood. His digits slid behind the doll’s head and dipped into the large crater of hollowed bone. Feeling for a slit in its scalp, he was. A hole to be found for his cockhead to nestle. How delightful its brain matter would feel massaging his shaft, and how refreshing its spinal fluid would feel seeping into his meatus. Yolk and albumen. A perfect organic lube. The thought made Kitter’s spent cock twitch.

But that was only if the poor baby hadn’t leaked it all over the floor already. For now the drainage of its ears had stalled, but there was still quite the accumulated sludgy mess beneath its head. He glanced at said mess sticking to its neck and legs. A sizable amount, and its ear goop was well-solidified. Either the doll’s reservoir had run out, or it was just being shy. 

Kitter cooed. Poor thing. A tilt of its head with his hand to its ear would tell him all he’d need to know. How darling it’d be if matter were to still leak into his palm. A condiment dispenser, the doll could be, or a darling lotion bottle of bloodied grey matter. Exciting! Much like the plans his Adil had laid out should business guidelines become laxer. So many scenarios to explore with such a well-raised doll and a well-built business!

Indeed! He mustn’t neglect the sweetheart in favor of admonishing his friend. That’d be the equivalent of his Adil following the advice of the feds rather than the smart honey brain housed in that head! Against every one of Kitter’s moral codes, and against every one of Adil’s profit-based decisions, it’d be! Wippy be damned! 

A gleaming green caught Kitter’s eye, lifelike compared to the corpse’s jaded stare. Ah, he’d almost forgotten amidst his emotion. The gem! 

He withdrew his hand from the corpse’s hair and fleetingly lapped at his fingers. Not much fluid as there was flakes of blood and skin. Beneath his nails hid a saccharine taste of which he’d not expected, but then again his palate must be used to the bitterness of scat. A sweet drop among a flood of tart was bound to stand out. 

With now tongue-cleaned fingers, Kitter reached for the piercing beside his knee and held it up for survey. His skin stuck to its gleaming surface, though his fingerprints failed to smudge its clarity. Spare light caught in its crystalline insides. Such a beautiful gem now that he’d truly looked at it. Elegantly cut, and emerald looked quite nice with silver instead of gold. It was not too flashy compared to the ones he’d seen before. Heart-shaped gems and over-engraved bands were sweet, Kitter agreed, but there was beauty in simplicity. Indeed, this piercing had to be from a luxurious little doll. A bit older, perhaps. 

But in truth, Kitter was not knowledgeable enough in this district’s culture to know for sure. How strange it was that Wippy avoided talking about where his trophy had come from, but that was no matter. Not for now, anyway. His friend would spill eventually. Part of that predatory insecurity his love always talked about, perhaps. An _ego,_ was it?

Delicately, Kitter placed the piercing between the corpse’s parted lips, gem facing him. Ceremonious and ritual, it felt. Its plump tongue acted as the perfect pedestal, like a ring upon a plush. Candied teeth shone a watered red above the green. Ah, so pretty, so pretty. And that pale purple tongue overlaid by the glassy emerald—beautiful! A breathtaking mirage of life, it was. Deserving of a photo!

“Wippy darling, look well at its face and tell me it’s not a beauty,” fawned Kitter. The corpse’s bottom lip scratched at his thumb as he rubbed it. He dragged its lip downwards until the purple-veined insides of its mouth peeked over. Like the veins of an orchid, they were. Putrid breath seemed to stink his nails, though Kitter knew well that the sweetheart was far beyond breathing. “Is it not the sweetest, cutest doll you’ve yet to see? This baby dolly doll?”

“I wonder,” his friend replied. So dull was the voice that Kitter failed to pick it up on first travel. Instead he heard it with the echoed crash of sea salt waves. 

The eroded tone struck him strange. Very absent, it sounded, and so very out of proportion to the excitement shown earlier. Irritation sparked at his mood. He’d offered his friend such a honeyed darling in exchange for the piercing, materialistic and small, and now Wippy showed no enthusiasm? He had the audacity to speak with nothing more than a wisp of breath? First an insult, and now disrespect? Not only to Kitter but the precious baby on the floor, laid pretty and open for worship! 

With gritted teeth, he flicked his ire to his friend only to pause at what he saw. Wippy’s eyes laid riveted on the doll’s eviscerated organs, and his fingers were buried in its mess. Slithers of its intestines rode over his knuckles. Up to his forearms were gritty stains of blackish brown. Those too-sweet-for-a-predator’s lips were parted in something of amazement, and smears of what had to be waste painted his slim neck as well. His bare chest seemed the only thing clean of brown. 

Sailors could navigate using the stars in those eyes, Kitter thought. 

Ah, he realized immediately after. Perhaps _not_ unenthused. Simply distracted, Wippy’d been. Kitter found that he couldn’t blame him. Any predator would be captivated by the sweet honey corpse! If anything, he was impressed by the silence of Wippy’s shenanigans. A sneak, his friend was. Though he thought it a shame that both he and his friend were missing out on the precious little noises those intestines could make. Good etiquette, he supposed, but what good was etiquette when it was no fun? 

Now with narrowed eyes of more interest than contempt, Kitter scanned Wippy’s form. Quite small, though he admired the size of his friend’s body in comparison with the doll’s. Poor baby was so tiny that Wippy’s hands could barely fit into its abdomen. Its sausage entrails welled up until they spilled over its carved skin flaps. Ah, just the sight made Kitter want to fuck it once more. 

For now, he took his fun from the memory of the doll's intestines exploding on his friend’s back. _Splat!_ it had gone. So cute! Even better a doll did that incident make it. Such a story it’d be to tell his Adil, after all! So iconic of a honeyed baby! He should make a game of it the next time he raises a clogged prey. What better way to practice his aim than to use Wippy as a target? His friend wouldn’t mind it, though Kitter could care less if he did. To play the role of a target was a small price to pay to be in the presence of another’s hunt. Wippy should be grateful—which he was, in all fairness. 

Though Kitter much preferred that gratitude to be expressed in words. With a raise of his brows, Kitter took one last look at the whole of Wippy’s posture. Several emotions culminated into an unsuppressed chuckle of amusement, and in the voice of an all-knowing mother, he said: “Mm, I wasn’t aware the baby’s face was in its abdomen.”

Wippy startled at the direct comment. A squish of flesh rang into the cave as his fingers undoubtedly squeezed a segment of intestine. Both his and Kitter’s pupils dilated at the sound, though the candy predator’s change was more obvious with the pallor of his irises. He sent a quick half-glance upwards, catching light in slated blue. Sheepish, he looked. Hungry.

Indeed the opposite of unenthused, Kitter thought. Such a pretty little thing Wippy was with those eyes. Such a shame he couldn’t kill him. What a _shame,_ ah!

“Apologies,” murmured Wippy. He cleared his throat of its scratchiness before sitting back on his heels, bringing his gaze level with Kitter’s. Good etiquette. With a lingering glance to his fingers, he continued: “I am occupied, you see.”

“I _do_ see,” Kitter said. Wippy pursed his lips and eased back some more. Deference? A bit cute. His friend was much more palatable when honest. “As I said, it’s a pretty little thing, hm?”

“Always,” Wippy agreed, and he withdrew his fingers from the doll’s coiling organs. A streaky coating of gore clung needy to his skin. A delectable sauce, it was. Kitter marveled at his friend’s ability to keep them from his mouth. Instead, Wippy brought his digits to the corpse’s abyssal wound to roll strands of flesh across its sphincter. “You fucked it well. Such a cute bitch.”

“Always,” Kitter mimicked. “Won’t you help yourself? You needn’t be shy.” 

Wippy sighed, and his breath turned sharp when his fingers indubitably sunk into the doll’s hole. Must be feeling how inviting the channel was, wasn’t he? 

“Quite truthfully, I do not know where to begin. I did not expect you to accept my trade so easily.”

“Mm, I can reverse it just as easily, if you’d like.”

That seemed to get Wippy’s attention. Must be drawing flashbacks to earlier times when Kitter had not been kidding. How amusing. “No, no need—I shall start with enjoying its anus, I would say.”

His speech seemed to speed with his adjusted posture. He sat up on his haunches and readied himself with a few strokes to his cock. His fingers wetted with translucent moisture. Pre-cum and a mixture of something else, perhaps. Very cute. Like a small dog getting ready to ram its bitch.

Still, Kitter laughed and held up his hand. “No rush, sweetheart. I only wanted to draw your attention to its face,” and he opened his fingers to motion at the glittering gem in its mouth.

But Wippy had already positioned his cockhead at the doll’s entrance, and Kitter found no need to stop him. Not a bad sight, his friend’s cock dwarfing its body. The light dust of tan was a delectable contrast to the purple of the doll’s corpse. So delectable one could most definitely eat it! After all, such a sweet velvety cock his friend had. Normally covered by foreskin, but the sheet had been pulled back to reveal a smoother, bulbous tip. Not only was his appearance well-kept but his sex as well, ah. No wonder Adil’s prostitutes favored him so.

Kitter hadn’t realized he’d muttered choice words under his breath until he was sent a fearful half-glance in question. Ah. He shook his head, and Wippy needed no further reassurance to continue. He watched as his friend eased his pretty glans past the anal wound. The tip had to be pinched between two fingers to fit. No lubrication either. What a rough and tedious passage! Wippy had always been the type to prefer sharper pleasure, ah. Kitter himself enjoyed the friction too, but he had no patience for the guided entrance such a technique called for. Fun in theory but a pain in practice, it was. Still, to see it be expertly done was a delight.

An exact reason he’d allowed the trade, perhaps. Kitter danced his fingers on his shaft in idle pleasure. Not bad at all, the sight of a prey-like predator further desecrating a corpse. Any tourist who happened by would stay to gawk, even if said tourist was no follower of predatory instinct. Wippy’s cotton-candied hair and the corpse’s faded luster would assure that. He supposed he could allow a harmless passerby as an audience. Not his fellow travelers, though. Would be too much of a hassle. Kitter frowned at the thought of handling them should they gain the courage to come. Killing them, he had no qualms with, but he hadn’t the slightest if he could say the same for Wippy. 

A quiet hiss drew Kitter away from his thoughts. He looked to see periwinkle brows knitted in concentration. How cute! And those pink little lips were bitten white. Coy, coy, coy and cute. The proximity of his friend’s enjoyment beckoned him to back away, but manners were no matter when the hole Wippy was using belonged to him. After all, the emerald piercing had been a trade to _share_ the doll, not to own it. He trusted Wippy needed no reminder. 

His head tilted to follow his friend’s fall forwards to mount the doll. Now that a cockhead was in place, there must’ve been no need for further hand-guidance. Such a beautiful, logical ritual. He expected no less of Wippy, whose hands found grip on the doll’s brittle legs much the same as his had done earlier. His friend’s abdominal muscles flexed and rippled as his soft-skinned shaft slowly eased down the doll’s channel. 

Wippy’s skin jumped with every touch of stimulation, and low whistling breaths escaped his parted mouth like a billowed melody. Must be feeling the sharp pieces of matter digging into the veins of his cock. Ah, Kitter’s own twitched at the paired breaths and memories. How sweet, that kind of sensitivity. Kitter found he couldn’t resist scooting forward to see the shivering skin up close. His friend’s forearms shook with something close to effort. He can only wonder how magnified the doll’s tight, tight channel would feel when traveled at this slow of a pace. His friend was not so much large as the doll was tiny, and the thickly girth of his cock seemed to meld and push its sphincter inwards. 

Even now, Wippy was being quiet. Shy, not so much. Merely careful, perhaps. Modest. There was beauty in the caution the prey-predator so liked to practice. Indeed...Kitter found he quite liked it himself, that kind of sensuality. No surprise, then, that he favored Wippy over the others of his kind.

From this angle he could better see the doll clinging tight to his friend’s cock. A warping pool of twisted flesh, it seemed, and he failed to tell for sure if it was pushing his friend out or sucking him in. Sweet baby corpse must be torn at accepting a foreigner. He cooed at its adorable body. A movement in the corner of his eye told him of a glance in his direction. His gaze slid back to his friend, then, and he watched Wippy’s expression as his cock bottomed out. Close to bottoming out, ah. His friend seemed to struggle keeping place even _without_ the live spasms of a hole squeezing him out. How weak. 

But no matter for now.

“Exquisite, hm?” He murmured, close enough now to speak low into his friend’s ear. “Look closely into its intestines; see your cockhead nestled somewhere nice?”

“Yes,” Wippy breathed. His hands were gripping the doll’s mangled legs hard enough to have his handprints join Kitter’s. “Yes, incredible…”

Incredible indeed. With rapture, Kitter studied the squashed segments of dried semen and fecal matter. The white of his dried fluid was now a filthy grime of brown, but still a lively purple bled through to his sight. Honey crystalline urine shone amber in his peripherals, and so sweet was the smell that it too bled heavy into the air, coalescing with copper and bitterness. An aphrodisiac! He should invest in something akin to that. A perfume, perhaps, for the prostitutes that could handle it. A business idea that catered to the greater-id of predators, depraved and carnal and _bloodthirsty,_ as his love liked to call it. Marvelous! Oh, how excited he was that he wanted his friend to enjoy the doll as much as he did.

“Move slowly to savor it,” he purred in advice. “Know well that the slick you feel is my semen, and the pieces that massage your veins are from my technique.” 

“Never tire,” Wippy murmured in response, “of a technique so fascinating.”

“Never,” he replied with a smile. A promise, perhaps. 

With leisure, he sat back on his bottom and faced the same way as his friend. From here, he could see that Wippy had indeed failed to bottom out. A sizable sliver of his velvet shaft remained unattended by the doll’s cling. How lonely, he thought. How sad. He stroked his cock a few and neglected his hilt in solidarity.

“Do it well and plunge deeper, won’t you?” 

Wippy sent him a side-eyed look in response. A bit impertinent, but Kitter let it slide. No matter for admonishing his friend when the poor darling’s voice was already torn: “Try as I may, it is much too tight.” 

“Try harder,” he said, and he was only half-teasing. “I loosened it so, and you still have difficulty?”

“Rid me of blame—the bitch is tiny, my friend.” 

At that, Kitter barked a laugh. “That only furthers the fun, see. I’ll aid you.”

With that, he crept below his friend’s shaking arm and eased his fingers into the rubbery mess of the doll’s organs. Oh, much colder than he’d expected! Frigid baby! No wonder Wippy had had his hands buried in the doll earlier. He was a fan of the cold, after all. 

Kitter tilted his head to look beneath his friend’s bangs and saw dubious eyes staring at where his hand lay. 

Another laugh. So amusing. “Spare me the look, sweetheart. Stare at the doll’s pretty little face instead.”

“Mind me not,” Wippy replied, and Kitter went on with his movements. 

Only the ocean’s ambience filled the silence as his touch admired the corpse’s icy swell. Even without sight, it’d bring any predator to orgasm. He closed his eyes to test the feeling. His fingers dug expertly down into a gloop of semi-solid excrement. Cold as well, it was, but pleasantly so. Resistance massaged his fingers as would lumpy rubber. He stroked at the doll’s unharmed segment and marveled at the squeeze of his fingers between the coil. A sweet orifice, it could be! He took note of its location. 

But alas, what good was senseless deprivation? Kitter moved to bring his left knee to his chest and his right knee beneath him. His member hung neglected, but for now it was no matter. He opened his eyes to see his fingers tucked to the right of where the doll’s poor little guts had exploded on his friend. Ah, of course he’d naturally navigate there. So much fun! And so cute, the dolly doll was, that it seemed to beg for him to ruin the unharmed area as well. Soon, soon, he promised. 

“You put the gem in its mouth?”

Kitter startled at his friend’s voice, louder than any of the previous exchanges. He frowned at the incredulity highlighting the question. Again, he peeked beneath his friend’s hair to see the slated eyes focused ahead. Bewildered, Wippy seemed. Was it the first time he’d truly looked at the doll’s face? Even after Kitter had directed him a few times too many? Ah, impossible...

“Darling, surely it didn’t take you this long to notice?” 

Silence. Wippy’s mouth opened. Closed. Then: “Well, you see—”

—Oh, the poor prey dolly!! Was his friend blind?! A crippled predator whose sight had been robbed?! 

“—No, no, let’s _not_ see. I feel I must report you to the authorities right this instant.”

Wippy‘s speech sped in defense. “No, my friend, rid me of blame. I have but two eyes and the bitch has forty holes vying for my attention!”

 _Insolent!_ “You dare blame the innocent sweetling? You say forty holes and you still failed to hilt yourself!”

“As I said, it is much too tight for me to—”

“No, you’re simply much too weak!”

“I am weak for having a cock too large?!”

Kitter barked an outraged laugh. “A cock too large? Dare I say, your vision must be skewed—”

“Skewed—”

 _“—Yes,_ skewed. How could you’ve possibly missed this poor baby’s face? You’re staring right at it, I say!”

Silence. Kitter could no longer tell if he was angry or in hysterics.

Once more, Wippy opened his damned mouth: “No, watch me here—”

“No, no, I’m most definitely reporting this to Vissy—”

“Goodness!” Wippy blanched. “Do not speak that name when I am balls-deep in ecstasy!”

 _“Balls-deep?_ Have you forgotten the reason my fingers are near your cock right this moment?!”

“No, no, I said to watch me here—” and Wippy slid his fingers up the doll’s knees to its shins;

“Then watch me here in tandem—” and Kitter slid his fingers to squeeze where his friend’s cock had nestled. A hiss told him his grip was tight, but he only tightened further. Sharp pieces of debris dug into his skin through the doll’s intestinal wall. He could only imagine how it must feel on his friend’s bare member. 

But with a brave, heaving breath, Wippy pulled back one centimeter; two, three, four; stretching the sphincter stuck to his shaft ‘til it tore, then:

 **_SLAP_ ** _“Fuck!”_

For one reason or the other, the intensity of the moment drew a cackle from Kitter’s throat. Something about the guttural growl his friend let out was too much fun. Bantering with him was too much fun! Wippy’s member wormed through the sheath until it jutted against the mass of goop capping the torn wall. One more push and it’d most definitely pop! From the outside, Kitter felt razors scrape up his friend’s cock, and in solidarity he felt a rush of abrasive pleasure in his gut. Oh, so nice! Amazing! Did his friend now realize the pleasure of hilting a doll so tight?

Now in the moments after catastrophe, the worming member in his grip throbbed in its sheath, and Wippy’s breaths became ragged and harsh in rhythm with its pulse. Kitter watched from beneath Wippy’s hair the struggling pupils of his eyes. Crying? Was the poor baby about to cry? So entertaining! This was the greatest fun! With the edge of his thumb, he massaged the intestinal wall housing his friend’s cock. It rippled as if it were alive, squirming and jerking with every miniature thrust of Wippy’s hips. Involuntary, it seemed, for his friend scrambled to proper his breathing.

_“Kitter—”_

“—Did you orgasm, sweetheart?” Much lower in volume did he speak, at least compared to the near-shout he’d had when they’d argued. Seeing his friend’s hips buck into his hand spread a finer smile on his face. “Did you mix your seed with mine?”

 _“No,”_ Wippy gritted out. Kitter’s hand now twisted the rubbery intestine around his cock, kneading it as would any contraption. The pointed bits embedded in the doll’s channel would be anything but forgiving. Must feel a bit like a live spasming prey, too! Kitter made sure to move his hand like so, and Wippy responded well to the motions: “But you are severely te-esting my endurance.”

“Oh, and you test my patience.” Kitter felt a full-body shudder when his hand squeezed the bundle of flesh. So cute...Wippy dear was being so cute! Act like this for eternity and he’d be bound for a lifetime of forgiveness. “Come on now, come. Fuck my hand, dolly.”

A shuddering breath. Almost sounded like a swallowed retort, it did. Moments passed in strained silence as his friend weighed his options. Should he pull out now, when the grip on his cock was but a play fighting gesture, he’d be banished from the cave. Kitter trusted he needed no reminder. 

And it did good to trust. Eventually, the whole of Wippy’s posture fell forward in deference. His noises quieted to low growls as he grappled for control over his body. Ah, smart Wippy. Kitter smiled at his friend’s compliance. What fun!

There seemed not enough control to stop completely, but the candy predator’s spasming jerks steadied to gyrations. Good, good, he murmured close to his friend’s ear. A tightened grip on the corpse’s legs was all he was given in response. No matter when the cock in his hold spoke with a throb, though.

He watched as Wippy began feeling the doll’s body deep and slow. _Sensual,_ he’d called it, albeit at this point there was a cute instability found in his friend’s cramping feet. As expected from a forced intimacy, ah. Those toned calf muscles tensed perpetually to stave off orgasm, and the carved caricature of effort made Kitter lick his teeth. How endearing, it was. Downright adorable. Wippy was trying so hard.

The corpse’s organs warped with the slow grind. No more than eight millimeters was Wippy able to pull back, it seemed. Was it the zest of life, or simply the inability to handle the scrapes of matter on his cock? Oh, such fun, this was. Both of them were apt to find out. So warm was his member that the rubbery walls sheathing it seemed to melt in Kitter’s hand. Sticky, sticky. Normally a dead doll’s organs only stuck to his hand like this a short while after death. 

He moved in rhythm with his friend’s circular grinding, pressuring the shaft with the doll’s spiky channel. A “masseur,” he felt like. His Adil had talked to him about that—something about relaxation, it’d been. Kitter closed his eyes and hummed. Indeed, he thought. This _was_ quite relaxing. He ought to tell his love of this discovery. 

“Good?” he murmured. Curious if his friend felt the same, he was. He slowed his movements and tightened his grip. Tugging like this always garnered a reaction from his Adil, ah, and Wippy shared commonalities with the lovely thing. Sensitive dollies always prefer more careful, deliberate strokes. “Good, hm?”

No discernable answer, but Kitter thought well of the near-whimper he heard.

A soft fleshy noise came from Kitter’s milking. _Squish...squish...squish..._ it went. Slowly, slowly. Unhurried, for what reason was there to hurry? Look how his friend panted so arduously, struggling to keep up with the lenient pace. His thrusts were miserable in comparison to how a predator should fuck. Inferior little thing. Just like a hapless child, wasn’t he? Wiggling his hips like he hadn’t the slightest what to do. Just happy to have his cock buried in something, ah. 

At times it even seemed like he required a few moments rest. His sweet prey eyes would squeeze shut, and his cotton-candy brows would knit. So cute, so pitifully cute. 

The worm-like flesh in Kitter’s hand was no match for the sight of his friend’s struggling expression. Indeed, he found it impossible to stop bleeding his friend’s reactions in those moments. Not when the cute little thing bucked his hips and let slip the meekest mewls in protest. No, it’d be a shame to be merciful. Look, he’d stopped to see, and the poor baby keened even louder! Those noises were just a pretense! He enjoyed this just as much as Kitter!

“You’re adorable,” Kitter purred. Awestruck, he sounded. Wippy responded with nothing more than a harsh breath. Something of a snort, but that was no matter. It lilted into a whine when he squeezed the bundled flesh. “You’re just the sweetest baby doll, hm? A baby prey? Not a predator at all, you see?”

Once again, no answer. 

But it was true Kitter felt no hostility. None from watching another take pleasure from his hunt, and none from the earlier irritation brought about by rudeness. There was only sweet darling pleasure between a predator and its quarry. Much the same as he’d feel when playing with his love’s prostitutes to pass the time, or even playing with his Adil alone. Not nearly as pleasurable as the latter, of course, but ah...it’d been a long time since he’d had any semblance of what was at home. It’d do him well to remember.

“What was it you kept saying,” he murmured lowly. His thumb traveled to the tip of his friend’s nestled cockhead, and with purpose he dug his nail into the solidified grime of semen and waste. Soon it was not just grime he was eroding but the bulb of a cock. He spoke over the hissed pleasure the rubbing elicited. “‘Rid me of blame,’ you said. Then rid _me_ of such for seeking comfort, won’t you?”

He did not say it directly, but his friend seemed to understand.

“I am”—Wippy sucked in his teeth and stilled his hips. Failed to work when his body twitched enough to keep him grinding into the corpse, though. So he liked it when a nail dug into his meatus? How expected. Kitter played with the slit ceaselessly, and through gritted teeth Wippy continued—“nn-not Adilan _nn—”_

“No,” Kitter agreed easily. 

Something fun in another male’s sex, there was. Wippy wetted Kitter’s thumb with pre-cum and the air with moisture. What became of squishy filth was a pure and cleanly noise. His friend’s bulbous tip played well with the grittiness of waste, and with every grind of Kitter’s thumb shot a dollop of fluid against his pad. So cute. Enough moisture to soften the solid masses around the cockhead, there was! And it was warm, ah. Warm enough to thaw the corpse’s organs. He should invest in his friend’s adorable ability. A living, breathing, reactive chemical dispenser to warm any frozen-cold dolls! And listen to those noises—so cute!

His friend’s breaths were now highly distressed, and peaks of pitch stayed true to the teetering edge of orgasm. Still, he did not protest further. Good etiquette. Kitter took leisure in playing with the tip, then. Smooth and wet; the urethra was but a tiny slit of leakage. His other hand stimulated his own neglected member, but pleasure was not his focus.

The candy predator’s forearms trembled with effort. Gripping the corpse’s legs to the point of splintering bones, he was. Now shaking so thinly, Kitter saw future in snapping his friend’s radii. Next be his femurs. Render the haughty darling mangled, ah. Gelatin little Wippy preserving his pride, trying his best to keep from screeching—not bad at all! 

Not bad at all indeed. How marvelous it’d be to see fractured bones piercing Wippy’s tanned skin. How sweet the blood would look, ah. _More_ than exciting, it’d be. No way at all for the darling to hold himself up, and so he’d be stuck with his cock inside the corpse. A hinged toy! The baby blue toppled over would make it look as if there were two dolls to defile. Naught but a two-in-one luxury sale. No predator would guess the darling on top was kin. Ah, hold a poll: see which of the two was favored over the other. A live, screaming, _humiliated_ predator, or a sweet baby prey decayed by a day? Curious, curious! Would anyone decide before the live one asphyxiated in its shame? 

Unbeknownst to Kitter, the zeal of his thoughts urged the fervor of his rubbing. 

“My friend,” Wippy heaved, now reduced to mindless rutting. Wavering with tears, his voice was. So, so cute. “You overe-estimate my s-stamina-ah.”

Kitter paid no mind to the words. A lover of pain, he knew Wippy was. No matter if he wasn’t, too; Kitter would still elect to continue. Too much fun, this was. Not to mention his dear friend had it coming for him, what with his play at secrecy and the countless jabs at Kitter’s excitement. 

But fear not, lovely Adil. This was all in good fun, all in good fun. An old testament to friendship! No plans for maiming here! 

Kitter grinned at his imagined expression of his love’s face. 

With one last rub to his friend’s meatus, thereby eliciting a whine from those pretty lips, he jerked the fleshy sock back over the glans. A new foreskin, see. Lots of resistance, there was, and so it took a few hard tries to stretch the rubbery walls. The motions most definitely scraped matter up Wippy’s sensitive shaft four-times over, and his friend bucked his hips accordingly with a high-pitched yelp. His scrotum hit the doll’s squashed buttocks with soft _thwapthwaps._ So cute. Right back to twisting the flesh sock did Kitter go, and right back to feeling the throbbing of his friend’s member did he enjoy. 

Poor candy predator kicked into the cadaver with childish energy. Like a flopping fish, he seemed. Digging himself into a grave! Kitter licked his teeth at the crackling of bone as his friend finally crumbled the corpse’s fibula. Rid him of blame for the tangent he was about to go on—simply much too excited, he was! 

Grip tighter, Kitter murmured. His lips touched his friend’s ear through long wisps of baby blue hair. Have those fractures dig into your palms. Impale yourself thricefold, see. You’ll feel it, won’t you? You’ll distract yourself from how good you feel down here? Your tiny cocklet is just like a wriggling maggot, baby. See how it squirms in my hold? See your exposed bulb leak with clear fluid just as a maggot excretes its saliva? How about I pulp this precious nub of yours? You know well how a maggot ruptures. It squicks in a palm and juices fluid to your mouth. How about it, hm? Want me to burst this bundle of flesh? Let’s mix your torn tissue with that frothing sperm of mine, hm? 

“K-Kit _cha—”_

Oh, and now Wippy was using the name Adil so liked to use! So cute, so cute. He played the part of Adil so well! Near-authentic! Kitter closed his eyes to truly imagine it. Lovely, lovely, that little doll’s whining. He squeezed his hand and tugged from base to tip, just like he knew the dolly loved. Like gravel in a thin pouch, the corpse’s channel felt. “Yes, my dear?”

Abrupt silence. Only the slithery noises of his jerking rose above the squawking of distant birds. _Schirk, schirk, schirk,_ it went. Oh, no, there was also muted _thwaps_ as his friend violently assaulted the corpse. Involuntary movements, ah. Only involuntary movements were that quiet. Perhaps a multitude of seconds passed before a choked noise traveled to his ears: an _eek!_ like the screech of a mouse squashed to explosion; or the slip of a scream before a child’s throat was slit: that split-second realization that death was looming, coming, coming—

“‘tcha, K-Kitcha, _enough—”_ crying, aww; poor baby was sniffling; that _thwapthwapthwap_ quicker and shallower: “I came; I came; I c-came!”

Kitter had indeed felt the hot leak of semen spill over his fingers, but he felt no need to stop. Just how it was done, milking a pretty little thing for all it’s worth. The continuous spill of viscous fluid was naught but a suitable lubricant to continue. Poor little Wippy’s chant ceased when he seemed to realize how futile it was to cry foul. The _schirk schirk_ eased into a _schlick-schlick-schlick,_ and with great joy Kitter also heard the _thwapthwap_ become accompanied by a _squick._ With the increase in fluid came an increase in speed, it seemed. Power from mixing two elite predators’ semen, he thought only half-jokingly. 

Only now did Wippy seem to fuck his hand in earnest. His friend’s member wormed in and out of the intestinal sheath in larger increments, too quick and erratic for him to match its rhythm. Ah, an autonomic movement was simply impossible to predict. No matter! It did its job in making Wippy lose his composure. Impressive how smooth the thrusts seemed to be, for sharpened debris was sure to be scraping his friend’s shaft forwards and back. Did it no longer hurt? Was the orgasm powerful enough to mask the pain? A perfect organic painkiller, ah. No wonder his Adil’s business was dearly profitable. 

How long ‘til this sweet Wippy begged for mercy? Kitter hadn’t a clue, hadn’t a clue. That’s what made it so fun! 

But if Wippy _truly_ wanted to play the part of his love, then the answer to all questions was no matter. Oh, this was fun. So much fun! 

“—i-itcha—” Even now, when Kitter’s wrist was beginning to tire, the leakage of fluid into his fingers seemed never-ending. He cared not if all of it was semen or if some of it was blood. Too caught up in enjoying its warmth, he was, and too lost in his thoughts had he become. The slick seemed to be thawing the cadaver’s frozen guts. A substitute for circulating humor, ah. How nice it’d be to flood the viscera and copulate with its faux-warmth. Lovely, lovely; it felt just like his Adil’s, truly! 

 _Oh,_ how he missed that beautiful little doll. He slowed his movements to liken the heady rush of nostalgia. With the relaxed pace came a slurp of teetered fluid. It spilled over his fingers and coated them with a thin residue. Most definitely blood, it was, and a _lot_ of it. How sweet. Kitter eased back some more and ran a slow-moving massage on the lumpy bundle. Another _eek!_ traveled to his ears in short manner. Cute! Variety was always good, it seemed. His Adil was a begrudging fan of surprises just like this, ah—adorable, the most adorable! Precious thing was unsurpassed!

Wippy here was a good reminder, but alas, it’d been too long since he’d played with the real thing. Far, _far_ too long. 

At some point, the sheath in his grip swelled with explosive bulk. He tightened vicely to snuff the ballooning, and he heard a whimper of absolute torture in response. Charming, charming. Only encouraged his sadism, the noise did. Tight enough was his grip that Wippy’s orgasmic thrusts no longer had range of movement. Perhaps a signal to stop, it was, but rid Kitter of all blame for his continued shenanigans. The contrast between the jagged edges and the pulses of the cock they stabbed were lovely, see. Dear and adorable and magnificent, they were!

But a hand on Kitter’s wrist brought things to a halt. Weak and quivering, the poor baby’s hand. Shaking like a leaf! Only now could he feel the body next to his struggle to maintain its vigor. No more was the haughty predator-feel Wippy so liked to give off. Instead what lay was a bare and vulnerable creature stripped of its hide. Kitter felt himself unravel at the poor thing’s trembling. Lovely, lovely little doll sniffling near his ear. Rendered unable to speak, was it? Unable to push him away? Not even an ounce of strength could be detected in the hand. Merely a last resort to get him to stop, was it?

Oh, nobody told him dear Wippy was this cute. And so much like his Adil, he was, to skip pleading with his mouth. Amazing, amazing. His friend ought to be an agent with these skills! 

He cooed, and played along. “Don’t cry, baby, shh.”

If only to turn Wippy’s head to him, he released his grip on the sheath and removed himself from the corpse’s abdomen. His friend followed his arm like a child would its mother, clueless but trusting. So _cute._ A bit more and he may as well pin Wippy to the entrance of the cave and take him. Force his head underwater and feel him asphyxiate, ah. Nothing but seawater and blood as lubricant. Lovely Adil would be upset if their friend came home with a perineal tear—if dear Wippy even lived—but how pleased would the doll be to learn he’d been a mere substitute? Jealous little Adil would be over the moon! 

Indeed, indeed. Wippy was but a substitute for his precious Adil. Neither he nor his friend needed a reminder, he felt. Normally no need for care if not the real thing, but dear dolly here was being cute enough for exception. 

Kitter slitted his eyes open. Just enough to see without ruining the illusion of Adil, it was. With a soiled hand, he curled his fingers beneath the crybaby’s slim jawline. Long hair brushed against his wrist, inconsistent with the illusion. No matter since its pleasantness was easy to ignore. Or perhaps it could reflect a time when his Adil had longer hair? 

Ah, how lovely of a memory. It brought a smile to Kitter’s face. 

The doll shivered beneath his fingers. Fragile, was it? Beseeching tenderness. Its hair caressed his arm as if trying to gain his favor. Still sniffling too, the poor baby. And still crying. Fat drops of tears cleaned Kitter’s fingertips of their grime. Could be a business idea, he thought. Torture some darlings and have them cry as sinks. A moisturizing water that tasted swell on the tongue, it could be. The idea was more amusing than practical, though. 

He chuckled in accordance, and the skin beneath his fingers spooked at the sound. Oh, that wasn’t fair at all, was it? Too cute! He cooed and shushed the darling’s fear away. Tilting its delicate face towards him took little more than a touch to its cheek. _Good_ baby doll. Obedient...just like his Adil. 

Too narrow was his vision to see anything more than blood-lined lips. Delectable, ah. Coyly inviting. An absolute superior to any lipstick or makeup of the like. Kitter licked his teeth and tasted salt. Would the darling’s mouth taste sweeter than his? Surely, surely. His Adil wore bitten lips just like this, see, and his dear always had a sugary tongue.

Well...too tan was the skin at present to be Adil’s, and too clean were the cuts on its bottom lip, but ah! Rid him of blame for closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to that quivering pout.

The doll froze. 

But with a deeper press it seemed to understand. Tilting its head to slot its lips against his—good, good, he purred. Such a silky smooth darling. The small indents of where its teeth had bitten into its lip were a lovely thing to busy himself with. He swiped his tongue against the cuts and relished the shudder of its body. A reaction to sea salt stinging on a wound, no doubt. The poor thing. But he saw no need to apologize when the salt had come from cleaning his palate of bitterness. Either salt or waste, hm? Surely any prey would go for the former.

A second swipe saw the darling pulling away in protest, but he smoothly blocked it by sliding his hand to its neck. So slender. Just a slight of his wrist could snap its neck. He pressed a thumb to its throat; a nail to forewarn. 

Ah, such a smart baby doll for falling lax in his hold. He sucked on its bottom lip and sighed at the salted taste of copper. A delightful mix of seawater and vital fluid. An acquired taste, again, but forever untired. Impossible to expire. 

No surprise that Kitter slid his tongue between the darling’s lips, then. So potent was the source that his cock twitched in interest. Most definitely drooled pre-ejaculate to the cave floor, his member did. _Lovely._ Rid him of blame for growling his pleasure. Good little honey doll accepted him through its terror-filled shiver anyway, see. 

He speared its lips apart to expose its warm cavern. A tad too salty was the saliva to be his Adil’s—his love was a fan of sweets, after all—and a bit too sharp were the canines to be of prey, but no matter; no matter at all. This tongue was silvered enough to taste as delightful as his love’s. Sublime and snake-like, it was. Only ever palatable when ruined.

A soft whimper told him of the doll’s pain when he forced it forwards by the nape. Weak nails dug into his forearm as a plea for mercy. Not in protest of being close to him, it seemed. Neither did it seem to dislike his tongue. Dolly would be squirming this way and that otherwise, and the labored breaths on his cupid’s bow were of pleasured ilk. Not to mention how well its tongue moved against his. 

Perhaps there was reason behind how still it kept itself despite having restless energy. He forced it forwards once more to see if he could pinpoint its pain. A watery cry seeped deep to his cock—dangerously adorable. An absolute treasure, that kind of voice. 

But alas, he realized. What strained against his hand was its lower half. Still hinged inside the corpse, was it? Stuck useless? Oh, this hopeless little doll. 

He separated their tongues to speak against its lips. “You want out, baby?” 

A meek nod, then a sniffle. Oh, precious. The poor thing. He pulled back some more and kissed at its face. Salty, salty. A sweeter kind of salt compared to its mouth. Something he’d never tire of, truly. With his other hand, his right hand, he laid a palm on the doll’s stomach. A tad too solid to be his Adil’s, it was, but ah...no matter. It retreated into itself authentically enough to gloss over the inconsistency. 

“Hang tight, love,” he cooed near its ear. Immediate obedience followed in the form of a shaking grip on his arms. So cute. “Ready?”

Another nod. Brave little thing; no hesitance at all...Kitter feigned a push on its belly, and he licked his lips at the heartbreaking half-sob the doll let out. When it realized his trick, it quieted itself and shook in its effort to remain silent. Oh, dear, that wasn’t fair at all. The poor thing must be agonized at what was to come. Such a lovely noise, ah. Too cute. By the ages, much too cute. A test of his endurance, this was. A tedious test. Made just to forsake him, it seemed! 

He took a few moments to calm himself. No need to spook the little thing just yet. 

Once he felt the doll’s shivering subside, he readied himself and rubbed at its stomach to soothe it. The first real push had the baby shuddering with an excruciating whimper. So great was the magnitude of the pain that it gave the doll strength to dig its nails sharper into his skin. What a lovely response. Kitter himself felt his body twinge in sympathy—though his cock betrayed his compassion with a soulless twitch. 

He shushed it needless of its tears, shh, shh, then slid his hand to where it conjoined with the corpse. _Oh,_ pitiful baby. He’d pushed it with such force, yet its cocklet felt as if it had only withdrawn so little? Those spikes must be deeply embedded! A long-drawn removal, ‘twas about to be. 

Kitter hid his excitement with a kiss to the corner of the doll’s mouth. 

Again, he slid his palm back to its abdomen. Its stomach spasmed with contractions. As close as a male would ever get to experiencing childbirth, Kitter thought, and he chuckled lowly against the doll’s face. The poor thing jumped again at the sound, and he soothed it with a gentle nuzzle to its cheek. So sweet and afraid. Act like this a bit more, he thought, and this gentle-lover act may as well be forgone. Bend the darling over and fuck it nice and leisure on top of the corpse, he could. Feel it whimper in confused pleasure. He’d give it a _real_ reason to cry, ah, if not out of terror then out of gratitude. It’d be staring at what it could’ve become, after all. 

Oh, fun, the things he could do! No need to kill it, no; not when it was this deserving of love. Something rarer than a luxury child, see. A one-in-a-million. Kitter ran his hands across its stomach and felt its muscles heave in fear. Precious, precious dolly. Grazing his nails across its peach fuzz granted him rippling shudders in response, and its meek sip of a sob sang deep-set arousal to his cock. Terrified little thing. He teased his index into its navel and felt its belly convulse in ticklish horror. 

What a wondrously tiny hole! If only he could string out its intestines from here, and if only it could retain its luster, both in its responses and the color of its organs. He could dig his fingers in like so, see, with his pinky and thumb as support. Three fingers down into the dolly’s cavity, searching for a hitch in the intestinal lining. Once found, he’d slowly ease out the squirming, eel-like beauty of its insides. Out, out, out, bulge by bulge. How lovely the dolly’s navel would stretch as the viscera blurted out. Vomiting from its tiny, tiny hole, ah. It’d pile in front of its pale eyes, and from there it’d reflect clearer and beautiful for him to see. The pile of red sweetness would squick in its slipperiness. Squirm as it spread across the floor, it would! 

A long way to go until it’d be completely extracted, though, especially with the intestine being so squished inside its body. No matter. Kitter would continue until the doll lost half its body weight from intestine alone. Lovingly, he’d treat it. Intimately. Once its woven entrails were splayed before him, he’d sever the tissue connecting its small intestine to its colon. Like snipping a wire, it’d be. 

Extracting the colon...he’d save for later. Best done through its anus, it was, after a session of thorough breeding. Indeed. To pinch the hive-like funnel of its anal prolapse, then to weasel the rest of its colon out like an embedded maggot—ah, that was just how it was done! 

But for the moment, it would be but an achingly empty doll, crying for him to fill its void. Emaciated, the doll would look, with a concave in its middle. Look how sweetly it quivered beneath his fingers at present, ah. The small hole of its navel would be bloodied but still pretty and circular. Intestinal mucosa was but the greatest lubricant, and the doll’s organs’d slipped out of the hole like a fish to a maiden’s hand. 

Never easier for Kitter to push his cock into the slitted hole, then. Its navel would have been stretched by the organs’ exit, but it’d be dwarfed by his cockhead. In, in, in. Stretching the little dolly and pushing its abdomen inwards. No need to use his fingers as guidance when the hole was slicked by mucus. A magnificent ring around his shaft, it’d be. How lovely its still-spasming body would feel. Oh, delectable. _Incredible._

His meatus would kiss its stomach pouch, and he’d grind it with love. What better to do than to smear his pre-cum over the acid-filled sac? Mark his territory for any predator who happened to rip it apart? Its colon would massage his frenulum with grooves as he passed. Delightful, ah. Once properly greeted, he’d slick out of the doll’s abdomen and feel its muscles contract to keep him inside. Weak, clingy baby. Ramming back in would batter its chyme and smack his scrotum on its skin. Perhaps his thrusts would become violent enough to rupture the lining of its stomach. Lovely sting of acid on his glans, ah. How aromatic the smell would be, that corroding of the doll’s pulsing organs. 

Or perhaps he’d fuck it with enough force to slip one of his testicles past its navel. Fun, fun. And on the off-chance, perhaps the entirety of his scrotum? Oh, that sounded lovely...

He’d fill the pretty little thing up until its belly swelled with a faux pregnancy. Bred righteous, this dolly little male. Indeed, like so. Kitter rounded his hand above its stomach to gauge the size of its would-be belly. Pretty baby, it’d be. The first ever pregnancy to have a cocklet hung beneath it. He’d have to plug the navel hole to stop his sperm from leaking pink down its stomach and legs. Yes...indeed, he must. Snip one of its darling testicles and see if it fit, he could. Or invest in a bejeweled plug. Something elegant. Something lovely.

Something to prevent him from tearing it out—else he’d overflow the dolly ‘til it exploded, see, for Kitter’s urges overwhelmed him on an hourly basis. Not one for holding back, he was. But dear oh dear, he needed to preserve the sweetheart’s gestation. At least until it birthed, no? For the birth was liable to be a marvelous child with darling features and the sweetest disposition. Such a thing was only natural when the child’s carrier was of this caliber.

But perhaps he may have gotten ahead of himself. The fantasies fed aflame a gunning need to purge the restlessness in his fingers. To the point he might tear his own phallus from his body, it was.

Rid him of blame for seeking an easy outlet. He knew the doll beneath his fingers at present was not his precious Adil. Too quiet, it was. When lost in his thoughts for this long, normally his cheeky little love would poke fun at his face. Why fantasize when the real thing is in front of you, the precious thing would ask. Delivered in a monotonous deadpan, it’d be. 

 _Ah._ He missed it sorely. Even Wippy’s skilled acting wouldn’t be enough to emulate it.

So with little more warning than a friendly pat:

Kitter shoved the toned stomach beneath his palm and followed it up with a shove to the torso above it. Forceful enough to send Wippy barreling away, it was, even with the apparent difficulty his friend had had in detaching himself from the corpse. Quite fun, in addition to being a good stress reliever. It slipped a smile on his face and lifted his nostalgia some.

 **_“Fuck!”_ **He heard Wippy squawk. The third time today, it was. Kitter‘s grin widened. Fine amusement indeed.

But not quite enough. He opened his eyes aslit to see his friend hunched over a good distance away. The “quivering dolly” wasn’t a complete act, it seemed. The tears had been genuine, and the expletive shout had been seething with distress. Poor Wippy, but Wippy be damned. What interested Kitter at present was not his friend but the corpse. He looked to see a trail leading to where his friend garbled in pain, and followed it back to the corpse’s gaping anus. He took a sharp breath at the sight. _Oh,_ wonderful. His long-neglected member throbbed between his legs. 

The cadaver looked as if it bled champagne from its hole. Syrupy red dripped from its sphincter to the solidified sludge below. A stark contrast to the urine puddle, it was, and it too was surely immiscible with water. Indeed, the red was slow-traveling like molasses. Thick and delectable! It’d be a while until a pool of it formed, unfortunately. For now it merely drizzled on the puttied flesh-matter the corpse had deposited earlier.

Kitter scooted forward and turned to front-face the dead doll. From here, the scent of iron hit him full-force. Like a breath of fresh air, that tanginess! Mellowed a bit by his friend’s semen, but no matter. Fruitiness only added a layer of complexity. The sight was incredible as well, ah. The corpse’s wound of an anus looked to the ceiling in heresy, and the way he’d positioned its legs beared no limitations on imagination. Completely exposed, the little dolly doll doll. It was as if an abyss dug deep into the cave-ground. A deep, deep-crimson abyss. “Hell,” was it? Oh, how amusing of an expression his Adil would wear if he announces he’d seen Hell during his vacation. There’d be nothing better to describe what laid before Kitter’s eyes. 

Its hole was bloodied and torn, yet its skin was ashen white. The same shade as his Adil’s skin but without luster, it was. Its blood must have pooled at the bottom of its body. Flip it over and be greeted with obnoxious purple, he could. His friend would enjoy it, but not he. This sight was much more welcoming. 

Pale and deathly, the corpse’s legs were, yet right in the middle of its baby buttocks and thighs was a cavernous maw. Teeth of feces and saliva of blood. It beckoned a cock to enter with a whisper of its putrid breath. After the first dollop of pre-cum bled into its channel, it would trap its victim by latching on with barbs. Any attempt to withdraw would leave a predator mangled, as exhibited by dear friend Wippy. Oh, magnificent. Such a two-faced dolly: a sweet smell, a sweet size, a sweet color, yet a violent, violent cling! 

“Volatile little thing,” he cooed. Behind him, Wippy released a familiar snort—“You mean yourself?”—of which he graciously ignored. Pained undertones lessened its bite, after all, and even the silvered edges of his friend’s voice seemed fearful of reprimanding. A bit cute, it was, so Kitter let it slide. The doll in front of him was too pretty to waste time on trivial matters.

Whatever shall he do, ah. His cock ached for a hole, but this abyssal sight was something he’d rather preserve. The red-drizzled mass seemed too perfect for him to swipe a finger in. Should he decide to flood the channel with his sperm, his scrotum would also batter the solidified putty gathered at its entrance. Rather than the pitiful _thwapthwaps_ of his friend, his thrusts would be thunderous and unrelenting. It’d absolutely flatten the poor thing’s last bits of baby fat. Not to mention Wippy had mashed the sludge into an endearing shape during his frenzy. Kitter found he didn’t want to ruin it, that scrotum-shaped concave of the sludge.

But the texture was liable to be good, he thought. He remembered his balls slapping against it with vivid sensation. Kitter licked his teeth and fondled his sac, but eventually shook his head. A marvelous feeling it’d be indeed, but ultimately his desire for aesthetics won over. No need to ruin what his friend had already perfected for him. Much too pretty, the doll was. It reminded him of his Adil, that juicy red and that ghastly white. Beautiful and nostalgic. Perhaps it was sentiment that kept his instincts at bay.

He eased his fondling and drank in the sight of the dripping hole. It _did_ look like his Adil. A bit smaller than his darling, the corpse was, but nonetheless accurate in comparison to Kitter’s size. He sat forward and propped his left knee to his chest. His right knee laid loosely bent on the ground, touching the sticky puddle of urine. Precious Adil had the same bloodless look as the corpse’s skin too, though the lovely darling admittedly looked much more alive than this. He chuckled. No exposed organs at home, unfortunately.

With his right hand, he stroked his member as he admired the sight. With his left, he tasted the sweet mix of blood and grime on his fingers. Gone was the sight before him when he closed his eyes and sighed at the flavor. Lovely. Wippy did well in performing the role of Adil. The coating on his fingers tasted just like his sweet little love in the form of bodily fluid. This vacation-special diet of theirs had its merits if it reminded him so deeply of what waited for him at home. An avid consumer of fruits, Adil was. No wonder the cutie’s ejaculate always had a pure taste to it!

Ah, but now riled up even more, he was. Too long since he’d had his love’s soft little hands roaming over his body. What need would there be for him to stroke himself then? The dolly would take care of it for him. Kiss at his member and look up through white lashes and white bangs, that _precious_ doll. Porcelain figurine. So easy to shatter; fragile baby. His love would smile ingratiatingly at him when his patience snapped and he pushed it down. Why rush, _predator?_

Oh, that arrogant, aloof little thing...prideful little cutie who knew just how rare its beauty was. Just how smart it was. Just how loved it was. Just how wrapped around its little finger he was, and just how much he wanted to filet its precious, precious body.

 _Fuck._ By the old ages, sages, wages—whatever those coded districts believed in—he missed that beautiful doll. That lovely, lovely sculpture of discipline and prey-specific reservation towards predators. Kitter opened his eyes and darted his gaze around the prey in front of him. Yes, just like that. Indeed no different. He wanted nothing more than to tear his Adil apart. To splatter the darling’s saccharine blood on his face and rupture every one of its organs; to fuck an intestinal sheath in his fist while staring at those diamond-red eyes; to fill every one of its orifices with his semen because it was 

HIS! HIS! 

Goodness fuck! He missed that fucking doll! Fuck!

Kitter hissed and seethed in emotion. He squeezed his member tight enough to elicit a strangled growl. No matter. No matter. A taste of his own medicine, it was. Wippy be damned but Wippy be humble, ah, how amusing. Funny. Entertaining. _Irritating._ Restless, restless, _ah,_ by the ages, he was about to flay himself alive! Smash his own head against that rock of his, ah! 

Kitter surged forward and grabbed the corpse’s stiff rubbered organs. He snatched them out of its cavity, pulling and pulling until naught was left to pull. He dug beneath its ashen chest and tugged at its lungs. Its cracked ribs scratched at his hands and scabbed his palms. No matter. Fight against him all it wanted, it could. Just like his Adil, ah, play-fighting! Play! Out came its entire small intestine and its liver and its stomach and its esophagus; its lungs and heart and oh how those tiny baby ventricles flabbed over his wrists and how its fragile heart fell apart in his hands. Out, out, out. So cute but his Adil’s would be cuter. Too much of a hassle to pull its colon; it needed to leak that pretty red onto the floor, yes, indeed. Remind him of his Adil some more.

He dropped the masses to the side of the corpse and shuddered a soul-crushing breath. All kinds of matter had sprayed on him and the doll’s ashen skin and its waxy insides and the rough cave floor but it was no matter! No matter at all! Anything to see that beautiful red again! 

This corpse in front of him was not bad; quite the opposite, truly, yes, indeed, never tiring, look at its lonely cavity asking to be filled, how could he be tired of that? Oh, indeed, but all he needed was to see his precious Adil and all would be right. He saw it everywhere now: his love’s glimpse of red beneath a glass of white-blue-crystalline sweetness—oh, fuck, he missed it. That sweet doll. That sweet, sweet doll. He felt his love’s soft hair in the honeyed urine sticking to his kneecaps, heard that soft-spoken voice in the deafening crash of waves and in the blood-rush in his ears, smelled the scent of purity in the putrid stank of the corpse. So close, he was. So close. But too far, and too long, and too DAMNED—

“Tsk!” Kitter leapt from his seated position and stalked to the entrance of the cave. Damn near close to gouging out his own eyes, he was. Damn near close to severing his friend’s hand and using it to puncture his eardrums. Torturous, this was! Vacation be damned! He mustn’t wait another second to get home! 

Kitter gritted his teeth and rounded the corner of the cave entrance. Too long, far too long. He made a mistake. Never had he been separated from his Adil to this extent. Separated without any form of contact, no less! The doll had told him to abstain from sending letters, and no higher power from above nor below could make dear Adil resort to using electronics. Kitter was but a sack of stories bursting at the seams now. So many things to tell his love. Would he even remember them all? No; how could he? When his mind was so centered upon his precious?

Once completely out in the open, Kitter took a deep, shuddering breath. In, out. In, out. Just like his dolly would tell him.

He flexed his fingers and felt the bloodied flakes in the crevices of his skin crack. Moisturize your hands some more, _predator._ Ah.

The air was salty and his mouth bitter. Not sweet at all.

Distant waves sprayed breeze on his skin, and though it contrasted nicely with the summer heat, it irritated his inflamed mood. But no longer contained in that stuffy cave, he was. Indeed. This felt more like home, however brighter and fresher it was. 

The stone floor warmed his feet. Long since baked in the sun, it’d been. Very much unlike the perpetually wet concrete of the floor at home. How pleasant, this was. His Adil would enjoy the warmth, if only the darling could handle the sun. Too pale, ah. Sensitive. Little thing would crisp up and shrivel, he felt. He chuckled at the thought, but frowned when the hole in his middle caved deeper. 

He touched at his bare chest and smiled wryly. Missed the little doll enough to where he felt he could weep, it seemed. Heartbroken fool. Love-whipped, and his name wasn’t even _Wippy._

Oh, this was horrific. This was torture. The greatest of all tests. Kitter stumbled and leaned his bare back on the jagged stone wall. Pleasantly heated here as well, ah, albeit he felt some rocks jab into his skin. No matter, it was. No pain was greater than what he felt emotionally.

He rubbed the heels of his soiled hands into his eyes. A heaving sigh flooded his mouth with salt. By the ages, the goodness of all ages, his entire being was torn. Not even dear Wippy’s mimicking of Adil could soothe his trembling heart. Not only his trembling heart, but his throbbing cock. Not to mention his itching fingers, and his creaking knuckles.

Oh, by the _ages._ He could not remember the last time he’d felt this frustrated. 

He let out a low groan, then leaned his head back and opened his eyes. Burnt by sunlight, he was. No matter. The light did well in sobering him. He let his eyes burn until he feared he’d blind himself. No need to go that far, ah. Else he’d be unable to see his precious Adil. Oh, the thought made him shudder. He might as well off himself should that happen.

Another heaving sigh. It seemed to fill none of the void in his heart despite swelling his lungs. No matter. For now, he let the waves soothe him. As close as he’d get to the whispering of his Adil, it was. As close as he’d get.

A long time for him to steady, it took. No better was the hole in his heart, but at least he felt no need to mutilate himself with his friend’s limbs. With a final sigh, he stepped forward and adjusted himself. His back itched with bleeding, but it was, for the thousandth time, no matter.

The poor dolly in the cave, ah. It must be despaired that he’d torn out its most precious parts and abandoned it. A terrible caretaker, Wippy was. He knew his friend would do little to soothe its distress. Probably try to fuck it instead, his friend would. The thought made him snort.

At least finish with this hunt, _then_ he’ll set off to go home. Indeed. That seemed most logical. His Adil would make less fun of him for his expedited return once learned that this prey was the seventeenth. He needed to gather his souvenirs too. Many, _many_ souvenirs, he’d collected. All aids to tell his stories to Adil, they were. The piercings he’d accumulated, teeth, bones, treats, trinkets...He’d need to stop by the inner-district shops to obtain more traveling gear. Bountiful things to show his Adil, he had! Lots on hand! Soon, soon.

Kitter smiled. He felt much lighter now that he knew it would not be long until he saw his love. A day and a half at most, perhaps. Lovely! How exciting! His love would be ecstatic to see him back, ah. Starry eyes while he spoon-fed the dolly prey-soup and treats! 

Oh, fun! He stretched his arms, enjoyed the sunlight, then turned to head back into the cave. He ought to inform Wippy of their departure. His friend was a nitpicky traveler, he knew. The darling had whiled away their time on vacation planning out their destinations, see. The majority of their companions hadn’t even followed the plans. How sad, he’d thought, and so he’d played along with some of Wippy’s routes in idle boredom. Exciting, some of them were. The majority were questionable in terms of legal safety, but that’s what made them fun! Though he’d admittedly neglect telling his Adil about _that_ part. 

No matter now, ah. He and Wippy would soon be on the expressway to head straight to X! Other companions be damned! Legality be damned! 

But just as Kitter had advanced three steps, a glint caught his eye. He paused. Too long-lasting to be of the ocean, and too bright to be of mineral. He retraced his steps and raised his brows at the familiar gleam. Metal, it was. Sharp metal. Not a piercing. He processed the information for a few moments, then sniffed the air. A sweet scent in all, truly. He hadn’t a clue what he was thinking earlier. Sea salt, blood, death, and traces of Wippy—ah, that last one. 

Kitter snorted.

How expected, that Wippy darling. Brought a knife to the territory, had he? 

Kitter decided to let it slide. Convenient, it was, and he knew the weapon was not intended to challenge him. Wippy would’ve simply walked into his abode waving it around if so, that haughty predator. No surprise it’d been dropped it in such a conspicuous place, then. It was intended to be found when amiable terms were set. Smart Wippy, smart Wippy. A bit annoying that he seemed to expect acceptance into Kitter’s territory, but ah. No matter. He supposed it was only natural after being long-time companions.

He bent to pick up the blade and studied it. Freshly sharpened, ah. Nine-inches long, he guessed. How useful! What a blade! No need to sharpen a rock to cut the decayed dolly’s head off now. Marvelous—things were finally falling into place! 

Soon, little dolly Adil. Soon soon soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will probably post an extra that has kitter cutting the corpse's head off and fucking it (and i might as well as throw in more kitter/wippy interaction haha. would address some plot holes that rise here and later.) the reason for it being an extra is because i checked the word count for this, and i figured adding that part into this chapter would make it too long. putting it as a separate chapter seems too awkward...it's already been four chapters and adil, who has his name featured in the title, hasn't even gotten a single scene lol!! 
> 
> nonetheless, hope you enjoyed!!! much love!!!

**Author's Note:**

> after i found out that otters rape baby seals while drowning them underwater, i literally could not get this out of my head. i went down a spiral of so many things. eventually this ended up being a change of pace from the suzuki series lol. completely id work to curb my enthusiasm.
> 
> also inspired by emeka. been reading and rereading tgrotp ever since it was published, and it spurred me to make something guro of my own. this work is not quite the same style as emeka's though haha. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! much love!!!


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